UC-NRLF 


&/^ 


^B    2fi?    PIT 


P 


p/^ili-l£-GF|3^ 


MAU 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/campsinrocl<iesbeOObailrich 


CAMPS  IN  THE  EOCEIES. 


CAMPS  IN  THE  EOCKIES. 


BEING  A  NARRATIVE  OF  LIFE  ON  THE  FRONTIER,  AND 

SPORT  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS,  WITH  AN  ACCOUNT 

OF  THE  CATTLE  RANCHES  OF  THE  WEST 


nr 

WM.  A.  BAILLIE-GROHMAN, 
KO.E.H., 

aOTHOB   or   "TYROL  AND   THB    TTBOLESE,"   "  OADDINOS    WITH    ▲   PSIMITITI 
PEOPLE,"  ETC.  ; 

Member  of  the  Alpine  Oluh. 


NEW   EDITION. 


NEW  VORK 

CHARLES     SCRIBNER'S     SONS 

1910 


COPYRIGHT,  1882,  1910,  BY  W.  A.  BAILLIE-OROHMAN. 


PEE  PACE. 


JK»^^A^^^^<» 


When  the  outspoken  frontiersman  happens  to  be  bored  by 
a  stranger,  and  desires  to  rid  himself  of  his  unwelcome 
company,  he  will  address  him  with  his  usual  drawl: 
"Say,  Mister,  are  you  aware  that  nobody  is  holding 
you?" 

In  laying  before  the  reader  an  humble  record  of  several 
little  expeditions  to  some  of  the  least  known  portions  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  I  shall  have  to  ask  him  to  camp,  to 
use  another  Western  expression,  on  the  trails  of  all  sorts  of 
beasts  and  uncouth  characters ;  the  least  interesting  and 
decidedly  the  most  monotonous  of  these  tracks  will,  I  am 
afraid,  be  those  of  the  irrepressible  "Ego."  For  this 
personage,  and  for  all  his  faults,  I  have  to  claim  the 
good-natured  reader's  indulgence,  and  I  hope  that, 
remembering  the  good  old  adage  of  noblesse  oblige,  he  will 
not  suit  the  action  to  the  above  bst  of  very  savage  frontier 
humour,  by  summarily  ridding  himself  of  his  company. 

Having  spent,  for  the  last  two-and-twenty  years,  all  my 
leisure  in  the  uplands  of  Europe,  after  an  early  training 
in  the  sport  of  the  chamois  and  deer  stalker — killing  my 


298956 


vi  Preface. 

first  deer  in  tlie  Alps  before  I  waa  ten  years  old — I  had 
long  wished  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  great  Moun- 
tain System  of  the  New  World,  the  home  of  such  lordly 
game  as  the  grizzly,  the  bighorn,  and  the  wapiti — the 
latter  our  own  stag,  produced  on  a  wholly  magnified,  one 
might  say  Avnerican^  scale.  Three  years  ago  this  wish 
was  consummated,  and  the  fact  of  my  having  returned 
for  a  fourth  visit  to  the  "Western  hunting-grounds  needs 
no  further  comment. 

Portions  of  "  Camps  in  the  Rockies  "  have  been  pre- 
viously published  in  the  "  Field**  where  they  mostly 
appeared  with  the  signature  "Stalker,"  and  in  the 
"  Fortnightly  Review'*  and  "  Time**  and  I  have  to  thank 
the  respective  Editors  and  Proprietors  for  their  courteous 
permission  to  republish  them  in  their  present  shape. 


9d 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTEB  L 
ktt  Intboduotobt  Camp       •••••{•       1 

CHAPTER  IL 
Camps  oh  thb  Wat      •       •       •       •       •       S       $       ;     83 

CHAPTER  IIL 
LiFB  iir  Camv        •••••••       9       •     52 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Ous  DuKB  Fbibnds  iv  Camp       •••;«•      87 

CHAPTER  V. 
Camps  amovo  Wapiti    ••••••;•    112 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Camps  oh  thb  Tbail  of  thb  Biohobh      •       •       «      i   154 

CHAPTER  VIL 
Camps  oh  Timbbblihb   ••••••••  182 


viii  Contents, 

CHAPTER  Vm. 
Cahps  ur  THB  Tbtoh  Basin  .«•«••   205 

CHAPTEB  DC 
Bbateb  Camps •       J       S       •    233 

CHAPTER  X. 
IvDiur  Camps  akd  Winteb  Camps      .>••••    261 

CHAPTER  XL 
Camps  nr  thb  Cantons  of  thb  Colobaoo*       •      •       •   296 

CHAPTER  Xn, 
Oamps  nr  Cowboy  Land       ..•••••    320 

CHAPTER  XIIL 
Westebn  Bbminiscbnobs       •       •       •       •       •       9       •    365 

Appbniox       ••••••••••397 


CAMPS  IN  THE  EOOKIES. 


CHAPTER  t 

AN   1NTR0DTJC3T0RY   CAMP, 

Our  Outfit — ^Western  air  and  Western  cities — ^A  bad  start — Different 
ways  of  visiting  the  West — My  companions — The  people  and  their 
ethics — Three  chief  qualities,  and  what  they  have  accomplished. 

On  a  bright,  breezy  June  morning  a  couple  of  years  ago, 
a  motley  *'  outfit,"  consisting  of  three  men,  a  boy,  a  huge 
four-horsed,  canvas-covered  waggon  laden  with  provi- 
sions for  six  months,  and  some  thirty  or  forty  head  of 
horses,  was  on  the  eve  of  starting  for  the  Rocky  Mountains 
from  a  certain  Western  '*  city ''  situated  on  the  elevated 
-  table-land  of  Wyoming. 

"  Outfit,"  it  may  at  once  be  mentioned,  is  an  expressive 
Western  term,  covering  every  imaginable  human,  animate, 
and  inanimate  being  or  article.  The  Missourian  speaks  of 
his  wife  and  little  ones  as  the  outfit  he  left  behind  him 
when  he  came  West.  The  Plainsman  calls  a  funeral  or  a 
wedding,  his  domestic  kitchen  utensils  or  his  rifle,  "  that 
yer  outfit."  The  Western  hunter  will  tell  you  he  never 
knew  one  of  "  them  thar  English  lord  chaps'  *  outfits,'  them 


2    /  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

top-shelfers  who  come  over  ^  hunting,  to  be  without  *  bear* 
coated  wipes '  (rough  towels),  rubber  baths,  string-shoes 
(laced  boots),  and  a  corkscrew  in  their  pocket-knives." 
The  single  occasion  I  ever  heard  of  that  production  of 
civilization,  a  lady's  maid,  penetrating  into  the  more  ap- 
proachable Western  wilds,  an  old  trapper — who,  happening 
to  observe  that  the  woman,  in  the  absence  of  side-saddles, 
was  riding  her  horse  in  man's  fashion — asked  me  whether 
"  them  outfits  as  I  heerd  called  lady  maids  always  straddle 
their  horses  ? '' 

Ours,  for  the  author  is  one  of  the  three  men,  is  an  out- 
fit that  has  nothing  of  the  top-shelf  about  it.  Two  of  the 
pack-horses  carry  bundles  of  rusty  iron  beaver- traps  ;  the 
saddles  and  harness  on  the  work-horses  are  wonders  of 
patching  and  raw-hide  home  manufacture.  The  men's 
wardrobe — at  least  what  little  they  have  on  their  bodies 
this  sunny  June  morning — displays  a  similar  acquaintance 
with  trapper  tailoring  as  does  the  leather  work  with 
trapper  harness-making.  There  is,  however,  a  very  work- 
manlike, ''ready -for- all-emergencies"  air,  about  the  little 
caravan.  The  rifles  carried  across  the  saddle-bows  are 
bright  and  shining  with  constant  handling ;  the  faces,  at 
least  of  three  of  the  party,  are  as  brown  as  chestnuts  ;  and 
their  conversation  smacks  of  the  wilds  they  have  but  left 
to  re-provision  and  to  meet  their  old  boss. 

They  and  I  are  old  friends,  for  it  is  not  my  first  expedi- 
tion of  this  kind.  Five  or  six  months  before,  in  the  dead 
of  a  Rocky  Mountain  winter,  I  had  returned  from  a  like 
trip--my  second  one — as  ragged,  unkempt,  and  disrepu- 
table-looking a  being  as  ever  "ran  his  face"  among  a 
civilized  community,  and  got  "policed"  as  a  cut-throat. 
In  the  Cunarder's  ferry-boats  I  had  sped  to  Europe  and 


An  Introductory  Camp.  3 

back ;  and  now  once  more,  with  my  old  companions,  we  are 
about  to  foist  ourselves  on  bountiful  Nature,  to  "  grub  and 
board  "  where  food  and  houseroom  are  free,  and  where  the 
alien  is  as  welcome  as  the  copper-coloured  native. 

The  sun  has  been  up  two  hours,  when,  after  a  great  deal 
of  business-like  bustle,  the  final  "  All  set  I  *'  from  the  mouth 
of  genial  Port,  the  leading  spirit  of  the  expedition,  rings 
out.  "  All  set !  *'  echoes  from  each  of  the  horsemen  in 
front  and  in  the  rear  of  the  waggon,  and  with  this  West- 
ern "  All  right ;  go  ahead ! "  the  little  party  bids  good- 
bye to  civilization,  and  begins  to  move  north-westward. 
It  is  a  broad  high-road,  scarcely  less  than  800  miles  in 
width,  with  the  bright  sun  as  our  guide,  for  on  the  vast 
ocean  of  land  we  are  about  to  cross  we  shall  be  days — or 
rather,  weeks— before  catching  sight  of  more  definite  land- 
marks. 

The  next  town  north-westward  of  us  is  "  'way  up  "  in 
Montana,  600  miles  or  more  off;  but  we  are  not  steering 
for  it.  We  are  glad  to  turn  our  backs  on  that  one  yonder, 
and  we  hope  not  to  set  foot  into  a  street  for  at  least  six 
months;  indeed  "if,"  as  Port  expresses  himself,  ''we  go 
light  on  the  flour,  we  needn't  for  the  next  nine  months." 

Whatever  may  be  the  demerits  of  the  West  in  the  eyes 
of  some,  no  one  has  ever  dared  to  question  the  amazingly 
inspiriting  qualities  of  the  atmosphere  of  these  trans- Mis- 
Bourian  highlands.  Dry  and  sparkling  as  perhaps  none 
other  on  the  globe,  it  seems  to  be  composed  not  of  one- 
fifth,  but  of  five- fifths  of  oxygen.  As  your  city-worn 
lungs  inhale  it,  fresh  life  is  infused  into  your  whole  being, 
and  you  feel  that  it  is  air  which  has  never  before  been 
breathed. 

The  following  fact  speaks  for  its  recuperative  qualities. 

B  2 


4  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

An  American  friend,  the  victim  of  a  pulmonary  disease 
of  long  standing,  two  years  ago  took  my  advice  and  went 
"West.  His  guide,  whom  I  happened  to  meet  some  time 
afterwards,  informed  me  that  when  the  invalid  engaged 
his  services  "  he  was  kinder  coffiny-looking ;  that  he  ap- 
peared to  walk  about  only  to  save  funeral  expenses."  Three 
weeks  later,  according  to  the  same  authority,  it  was  a 
pleasure  to  see  him,  with  a  crippled  bear  after  him,  barking 
up  a  tree  "  as  if  every  darned  thing  on  him,  boots  and  all, 
wanted  to  climb '' — a  statement  partially  confirmed  by  the 
hero,  who  has  perfectly  recovered.  Its  wonderful  effect 
upon  men*s  animal  spirits  have  been  compared  to  that  of 
champagne,  without  its  headaches  and  blues;  with  the 
further  difference,  that  this  rejuvenating  fillip  is  enduring 
and  health-endowing.  You  seem  to  be  growing  younger, 
not  older;  and  you  begin  to  understand  the  plainsman's 
opinion  of  it,  when  he  told  you  that  out  West  men  take 
twice  as  much  killing,  and  horse- thieves  have  to  hang  five 
minutes  longer  than  anywhere  else. 

I  had  travelled  five  or  six  thousand  miles  on  end  as  fast 
ns  steam  would  take  me :  an  exceedingly  bad  sailor,  the 
lacket  of  five  nights  and  five  days  in  the  train  had  not 
removed  the  cobwebs  from  my  inner  man.  What  nought 
dse  in  so  short  a  time  could  have  accomplished,  four-and- 
fiwenty  hours  in  this  bright  atmosphere,  and  a  glorious 
night's  rest  under  buffalo  skins — or  robes  as  they  are  called 
in  America — with  the  sky  for  a  roof,  had  brought  about. 
Mounted  on  my  old  favourite  ''  Boreas,*'  the  slow  but 
sure  prince  among  mountain  shooting-ponies,  my  "Ex- 
press ''  slung  over  my  back,*  I  cantered  along ;  the  keen, 

*  The  frontiersman  when  on  horseback  usually  carries  his  rifle  in  front 
of  him  across  the  Mexican  saddle,  attached  by  a  simple  leather  arrange* 


An  Introductory  Camp.  % 

crisp  breeze  sweeping  over  the  plains  from  the  yet  invisible 
Rocky  Mountains,  puffing  out  my  loose  flannel  blouse-shirt, 
life  on  that  fresh  June  morning  seemed  again  quite  worth 
living  for. 

There  is  nothing  about  the  landscape,  except  its  treeless 
barrenness,  to  indicate  that  we  are  7000  feet  and  m>ore 
above  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Oceans.  There  are  no 
mountains  to  be  seen,  and  neither  trees  nor  shrubs  are 
visible.  Behind  us  lies  the  mushroom  matchboard 
*'city/'  as  direly  forsaken  by  nature's  beautifying  hand 
as  is  the  scenery  surrounding  it.  In  the  middle  of  arid 
highland  barrens — which,  measured  from  their  northern 
to  their  southern,  from  their  eastern  to  their  western, 
extremities,  are  just  thirty  times  the  size  of  England — 
there  is  an  indescribable  crudeness  about  this  bubble 
attempt  of  man  to  leave  his  mark  on  Nature's  vastness. 
The  glare  of  the  intensely  bright  light  beats  down  with 
searching  brilliancy  upon  the  city's  grotesque  unpic- 
turesqueness.  Around  us,  in  front  of  us,  at  our  side,  is  the 
immeasurable  nothing  of  the  sagebrush  desert.  The 
streets  of  the  settlement  begin  in  it,  and  end  in  it  with 
the  same  startling  abruptness.  Built  yesterday — inhabited 
to-day — deserted  to-morrow,  is  written  on  everything. 
Some  of  the  dwellings  indeed  have  already  reached  that 
last  stage;  roof-and- window  less  cabins,  they  have  about 
them  a  pathetic  look  of  woebegone  desolation ;  for  while 
among  other  surroundings  the  ruin  of  a  log-cabin  can  at 
Itjast  claim  a  certain  picturesqueness  of  decay,  the  same 
eight  on  the  Plains  of  the  West  carries  with  it  all  the 

ment  to  the  *'  horn  " — a  position  which  in  my  eyes  is  more  riskful  than 
slung  over  one's  back,  for  the  first  tumble  with  your  horse  is  liable  to 
■nap  the  slender  £nglish  stock  ;  and  then — where  are  you  P 


9  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

suggestive  signs  of  human  misfortune,  and  instinctively 
one  passes  in  mental  array  the  hundred- and-one  catas- 
trophes by  which  possibly  the  dwelling  was  rendered 
tenantless.  But  such  thoughts  cannot  live  in  the  sparkling 
life-giving  air  of  the  West.  A  bright  future — as  bright,  I 
hoped,  as  the  past  I  spent  in  those  wilds  I  was  now  bent 
for —is  looming  up.  But  steady  ;  not  quite  so  fast,  my  dear 
sir.  Before  you  can  taste  all  the  promised  delights  in  the 
yet  distant  sportsman's  idyl,  you  have  to  get  there.  Four 
hundred  and  fifty  miles — five  long  dreary  weeks*  travel, 
replete  with  the  minor  ills  of  the  Plains,  will  try  the 
patience  of  man  and  beast.  Did  not,  when  I  was  purchas- 
ing our  stores  the  previous  day,  the  keen-eyed,  tobacco- 
chewing  vendor,  with  pitying  compassion  in  his  voice, 
solemnly  conjure  me  to  sink  capital  in  various  luxuries  in  the 
tinned  meat  and  canned  fruit  and  vegetable  line ?  "For," 
as  he  added,  ^'  you'll  find  it  all-fired  mean  travelling  this 
season.  We  ain't  had  such  a  dry  spring  since  this  yer  town 
was  started."  Did  not  the  spirit  merchant,  while  furiously 
masticating  his  quid,  and  playfully  invoking  the  most 
familiar  dwelling-places  of  evil  spirits,  exclaim  in  accents 
of  profound  amazement,  '*  Say,  mister,  you  surely  don't 
mean  to  start  out  on  a  six  months'  trip  at  this  darned  dry 
season  with  only  a  five-gallon  keg  of  whis-key,  and  four 
of  you  to  drink  it  ?  "  But  my  men  and  I  knew  too  much 
of  Western  "  tangle-leg  "  and  its  vile  poisonous  qualities. 
That  good  old  *'  cowboy  "  saying,  which  tells  you  that  one 
drink  of  it  tempts  you  to  steal  your  own  clothes,  two 
drinks  makes  you  bite  off  your  own  ears,  while  three  wiU 
actually  make  you  save  your  drowning  mother-in-law,  was 
not  invented  for  us ;  "  for,"  as  Henry  the  boy  cook 
q[uizzically  put  it,  "  our  clothes  arn't  worth  stealing,  oui 


An  Introductory  Camp.  7 

ears  are  too  big  and  too  tough,  and  our  outfit  ain't  got 
no  mother-in-laws  about \\>,* 

So,  forewarned,  but  not  forearmed,  we  start  for  our 
distant  goal.  But,  as  is  the  case  in  most  similar  under- 
takings, first  days  are  apt  to  be  lost  days.  "We  had  not 
got  out  of  sight  of  the  "  city  *'  when  we  were  reminded 
of  this. 

''Dog- gam  them  horses!*'  a  loud  voice  exclaims  ;  a 
lightning-like  streak  of  the  long  ''black-snake''  whip 
accompanying  the  words  ;  and  plunging  madly  forward  as 
they  hear  the  dreaded  "  whiz,"  the  two  restive  leaders  in 
the  team  have  broken  the  coupling  chains  ;  and  with  the 
link-bars  jingling  and  clattering  at  their  heels,  the}^  are 
ofi*,  tearing  over  the  sagebrush  desert,  as  genuinely 
stampeded  two  bronchos  as  you  can  wish  to  see. 

The  next  instant  the  whole  train  is  in  dire  confusion. 
The  little  band  of  as  yet  perfectly  unbroken  horses,  round 
whom  one  of  the  men  and  the  boy  have  been  incessantly 
circling,  herding  them  in  with  whip  and  voice,  have  taken 
the  alarm ;  and,  kicking  up  their  heels,  have  done  like- 
wise. The  pack-horses  in  front  of  them,  "  bossed  along  " 
by  me,  have,  notwithstanding  my  frantic  efibrts,  followed 
the  example,  for  most  of  them  are  as  fresh  as  frisky 
three-year-olds,  and  a  long  spring,  spent  in  perfect 
liberty  on  their  range,  has  made  them  unused  to  tight 
girths  and  to  the  rattle  of  sundry  pans  and  pots  about 
their  packs.  They  are  now  streaking  it  over  the  plains  ; 
tails  flying,  and  bucking  off  their  loads  in  fine  style. 
Except  our  three  saddle-horses  and  the  two  staid  old 
wheelers,  not  a  horse  remains.  Dispersed  in  forty  odd 
different  directions,  we  have  only  the  cold  comfort  of 
knowing  that  they  are  probably  still  somewhere  in  the 


8  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

100,000  square  miles  of  Wyoming.  No  time,  however, 
is  wasted  ;  for  those  horses  must  soon  be  caught,  or, 
fresh  as  they  are,  they  will  roam — goodness  knows  where 
to.  The  wheelers  are  taken  out ;  one  is  turned  out  loose, 
the  other  is  mounted,  bare-back,  by  the  driver,  and  we 
are  off.  Two  take  this  side  ;  the  other,  that  side,  of  the 
59,588,480-acre  paddock. 

Five  minutes  later,  the  old  waggon  is  standing  there 
forlorn  and  forgotten — a  sad  picture  of  the  vicissitudes  of 
"Western  life. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  two  of  the  party  return.  The 
boy  and  I  managed  to  gather  in  the  pack-horses  and  the 
two  leaders,  who,  not  quite  so  wild  as  the  unbroken 
horses  who  have  never  had  a  saddle  on  their  backs,  have 
not  run  so  far.  Tired,  dust-begrimed,  hungry  and  thirsty, 
we  get  back  to  the  stranded  "  prairie-schooner,"  i.e.  the 
waggon.  The  rest  of  the  afternoon  and  long  evening  is 
passed  in  collecting  the  packs  bucked  off  by  the  brutes, 
and  which  are  strewing  the  Plains — here  a  bundle  of 
traps,  there  the  fifty-pound  iron  powder-keg,  yondor  the 
whiskey-cask ;  and  a  few  hundred  yards  further,  the  two 
strong,  raw-hide  sacks  containing  the  cooking  utensils  and 
table-ware.  As  everything  is  of  sound,  solid,  enamelled 
cast-iron,  the  typical  "  This  side  up,  with  care,''  anxiety 
of  anxious  housewives,  is  not  one  of  the  ills  to  which  we 
are  heir. 

Leaving  the  waggon  where  it  is,  we  return  to  the 
spring  from  whence  we  started  that  morning. 

It  is  quite  dark  by  the  time  the  pungent  smoke  from 
the  sagebrush  camp-fire  has  subsided,  and  our  primitive 
supper  of  bacon  and  corn  is  finished.  The  absentees  have 
not  yet  returned.    '^  As  bad  a  break  as  ever  I  sees.  Boss," 


An  Introductory  Camp.  9 

remarks  Henry,  '*  and  no  two  ways  about  that*'  "  Guess 
them  doggarned  horses  have  funeralized  us  all-fired 
meanly ;  shouldn't  wonder  if  the  whole  outfit  has  gone 
back  to  their  old  range,  hundred  and  fifty  miles  south/' 
And,  to  cut  a  long  story  short,  the  ''  darned  mean  cusses '' 
did  return  to  their  home  range,  one  of  the  men  going  in 
pursuit,  while  Port  returned  the  next  morning ;  and  we 
made  another  start  of  it,  leaving  the  other  man,  with  his 
flying  column  of  unbroken  stock,  to  catch  up  with  us  as 
best  he  could. 

While  we  are  waiting  for  the  men  at  our  smouldering 
camp-fire,  let  me  introduce  the  most  prominent  person- 
ages of  these  pages,  and  say  a  few  words  on  the  raison 
d'Stre  of  my  presence  in  a  trapper  outfit. 

There  are  three  ways  of  visiting  the  Far  West,  either  for 
pleasure  or  for  sport.  The  orthodox  mode,  to  which  only 
rich  men  can  aspire,  is  at  present  also  the  most  usual 
manner,  for  as  a  rule  none  but  men  of  more  than  indepen- 
dent means  visit, trans-Missourian  countries  for  pleasure. 
The  frontiersman  calls  them,  as  we  have  heard,  *'  top- 
shelfers;"  they  are  accompanied  by  their  servants  from 
England,  they  hire  some  Western  "  hunters ''  as  guides, 
and  their  expedition  is  provided  with  an  amazingly  com- 
plete camping  outfit.  They  are  asked  very  high  wages 
• — and  they  pay  them. 

The  second  way  is  cheaper,  but  far  less  independent. 
It  is  to  get  letters  to,  or,  if  you  chance  to  be  of  command- 
ing personal  attractions,  endeavour  to  make  friends  with, 
the  officers  in  charge  of  such  of  the  frontier  military  forts 
that  are  near  good  game  ground.  There  are  many  of  this 
kind  in  the  northern  Territories ;  and  there,  if  properly 
introduced,    you   will  meet   with    rare  hospitality,    and 


lo  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

readiness  to  further  your  object ;  you  will  be  supplied  with 
stores,  waggons,  horses,  troopers — everything  you  want 
The  American  officers,  notwithstanding  the  weary  loneliness 
of  their  desolate  posts,  hundreds  of  miles  from  the  nearest 
companionable  being,  are  as  a  rule  no  sportsmen,  but  they 
will  nevertheless  enter  with  zest  into  your  plans ;  and  if 
they  see  that  their  presence  is  not  unwelcome,  one  or  the 
other  of  them  will  accompany  you  on  your  little  shooting 
expeditions,  and  will  make  a  very  welcome  addition  in  the 
number  of  mouths  to  be  fed  with  venison,  and  hence  also 
to  the  number  of  wapiti  or  bighorn  you  can  legitimately 
kilL  There  will  be  plenty  of  whiskey — indeed,  very  often 
its  supply  is  far  too  abundant;  and  on  returning  to  camp 
from  a  long  day's  stalk,  you  now  and  again  find  the  cook 
or  the  other  underling  troopers  in  a  state  not  conducive 
to  good  cooking  or  handy  service. 

The  third  is  the  cheapest,  the  freest,  the  most  pleasant 
manner  provided  its  rough  sides  have  no  terrors  for  you. 
It  is  to  eschew  the  usual  run  of  Western  guides,  who  take 
their  parties  year  after  year  over  to  the  same  well-beaten 
ground,  and  to  choose  for  your  companions  regular  trappers 
or  fur-hunters. 

I  hare  tried  all  three  ways.  My  first  trip,  on  which  I 
was  accompanied  by  a  friend,  partook  of  the  top-shelfer*8 

tfit.  We  were  laden  down  with  unnecessary  camp 
luxuries,  stored  away  on  two  waggons.  I  shot  very  little 
game,  I  saw  the  people  as  they  are  not ;  and  owing  to 
that  very  bad  habit  of  asking  questions,  I  was  told  more 
tall  stories  than  the  proverbial  Colonel  from  Texas  could 
invent  in  a  year,  for,  as  the  frontiersman  will  himself 
tell  you,  the  West  is  a  country  where  "talk  is  cheap 
and    lies    worth    nothing.''      Had    it   not   been  that  on 


An  Introductory  Camp.  II 

this  trip  I  made  the  casual  acquaintance  of  my  future 
companion,  genial  Port,  there  would  not  have  been  a 
single  redeeming  feature  about  my  first  experience.  The 
second  manner  had  never  very  great  attractions  for  me  ; 
though  at  a  considerably  later  period  I  had  occcision  to  be 
one  of  a  party  of  three  Englishmen,  who  have  every  cause 
to  remember  the  remarkable  hospitality  of  the  commanding 
officers  in  a  certain  Wyoming  fort,  who  fitted  us  out  in 
right  royal  style,  with  men,  horses,  waggons,  and  escort, 
enabling  us  to  visit  the  Ute  Indian  country  in  the  depth  of 
a  very  severe  winter.  Far  more  preferable  is  the  third 
way,  i.e.  to  join  a  trapper  outfit,  and  at  a  cost  which, 
under  the  circumstances,  and  in  comparison  to  the 
ten  or  fifteen  pounds  per  diem  cost  of  many  "  top- 
shelfer'*  expeditions,  must  be  called  exceedingly  moderate, 
turn,  for  all  intents  and  purposes,  trapper  yourself. 
Only  the  most  remote  districts  are  visited  by  the  genuine 
fur-hunters — by  no  means  a  numerous  class  ;  for  the  much- 
persecuted  beavers  and  other  valuable  fur-bearing  animals 
have  long  retired  to  the  few  uninvaded  districts,  and 
there  only  can  they  be  found  in  paying  numbers.  You 
enjoy  the  good-fellowship  of  thoroughly  trustworthy  men ; 
and  while  they  do  their  trapping  or  wolf -poisoning,  you, 
who  are  tacitly  considered  the  ''  boss,"  or  master,  and  are 
also  addressed  as  such,  can  roam  about  at  your  own  free 
will,  gradually  extending  your  expeditions  as  you  become 
versed  in  the  necessary  art  of  woodcraft.  Of  course,  for 
the  newly  arrived  "  tenderfoot  '*  this  roaming  about,  and 
not  losing  himself  or  getting  into  other  more  awkward 
dilemmas,  necessitates  some  preliminary  experience  in 
woodcraft.  But  this,  under  the  tuition  of  the  very  capable 
trapper-masters,   is,  if  he  has  had   previous  training  in 


12  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

other  parts  of  the  world,  soon  acquired  ;  and  when  once 
mastered,  the  pleasure  of  knowing  himself  perfectly  inde- 
pendent will  vastly  enhance  the  charm  of  life  in  the  woods 
and  in  the  mountains. 

But  it  is  not  every  sportsman  fresh  from  the  East  or 
from  Europe,  who  has  either  the  time,  opportunity,  or 
desire  to  hunt  for  men  of  this  stamp.  The  Union  Pacific 
lands  him  at  Cheyenne  or  Denver ;  and  while  in  his  in- 
nermost soul  he  hides  a  feeling  of  defrauded  curiosity  at 
not  finding  dead  men  lying  about  the  streets  and  festoon- 
ing the  odd  trees  about  the  town,  he  expects  to  fall  into  the 
arms  of  a  revised  edition  of  a  Bridger,  Kit  Carson,  or  old 
Joe  Clark.  At  the  first  glance,  perhaps  his  disappoint- 
ment on  this  score  is  not  so  great ;  for  the  modern  repre- 
sentatives of  those  old  scouts  of  classic  renown  who  forth- 
with interview  him  in  front  of  the  hotel  bar,  are  got  up  in 
embroidered  buckskin  suits,  broad  sombreros,  cartridge 
belts,  and  a  six-shooter  at  the  waist.  Their  hair  is  long, 
and  their  name  some  startling  imitation  of  *'  Bufialo  Bill^' 
or ''  Wild  Will."  They  tell  him  they  are  old  Indian  fighters, 
who  know  the  whole  West  as  they  know  their  pockets. 

I  can,  alas !  speak  from  experience  of  the  wiles  and  of 
the  traps  that  waylay  the  newly-arrived  sportsman  ;  for  I 
was  green,  very  green,  when  I  first  crossed  the  Missouri, 
and  hence  I  fell  a  singularly  easy  prey  to  certain  "Bearclaw 
Joes  ^^  and  *'  Scalp  Jacks." 

As  a  warning  to  others,  I  may  relate  how  I  was  taken 
in,  for  my  tale  will  also  give  an  idea  of  the  manner  and 
ways  of  getting  up  such  names.  Out  West,  everything, 
from  a  mining  stampede  to  the  achievement  of  making  a 
particular  whiskey  saloon  a  favourite  with  the  public, 
requires  "  getting  up ;"  and  names  fare  no  better. 


An  Introductory  Camp*  13 

I  was  fresh  from  England,  for  the  four  or  five  montha 
I  had  spent  in  New  York,  Newport,  and  other  Atlantic 
resorts,  could  hardly  he  called  a  proper  schooling  for  the 
West.  Let  the  Western  town  where  the  following  inci- 
dent occurred,  be  nameless.  During  my  fortnight's  stay 
I  had  interviewed  more  than  a  dozen  of  so-called  hunters, 
who  came  up  to  offer  me  their  services — and  get  a  free  drink. 
One  of  them  was  especially  taking,  and  the  most  startling 
adventures  had  "  camped  on  his  trail "  from  the  time  he 
left  his  mother's  lap.  Indian  fighting,  bear  shooting,  and 
elk  and  buffalo  slaughtering,  from  the  Saskatchewan  to 
the  Panhandle,  had  been  his  life's  vocation.  Naming 
certain  regions  I  desired  to  visit,  he  claimed  to  be  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  every  Indian  trail  that  crossed 
the  densely  timbered  district.  I  am  not  sure  that  I  should 
not  finally  have  been  tempted  to  engage  the  great  hunter, 
had  not  a  sudden  denouement  taught  me  a  very  salutary 
lesson. 

The  buckskin  suit,  the  broad  Texan  hat,  no  less  than 
the  long  hair  that  fell  down  to  his  shoulders,  were  all  as 
greasy  as  became  a  great  Indian  fighter ;  but  I  remarked 
that  his  sporting  accoutrement  was  decidedly  new,  and 
had  evidently  seen  but  little  wear  /id  tear.  The  pon- 
derous cartridge  belt  round  his  waist  was  as  brand-new 
from  the  saddler's  shop  as  his  big  six-shooter  and  Win- 
chester rifle  from  the  gunmaker's.  Nailed  to  the  stock  of 
his  rifle  were  the  front  claws  of  a  grizzly,  and  on  my 
making  some  cautious  inquiries  respecting  it,  and  the 
name  by  which  he  had  introduced  himseK  to  me — "  Bear- 
claw  Joe  " — he  proudly  informed  me,  that  though  he  had 
had  that  rifle  but  a  short  time,  it  had  already  annihilated 
the  biggest  bear  in  the  Territory,  a  fierce  hand-to-claw 


14  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

fight  having  preceded  the  monster's  demise.  During  the 
terrible  combat  the  bear  had  got  the  stock  between  his 
jaws,  and  the  dents  the  man  proceeded  to  show  me  on  his 
weapon — but  which,  I  innocently  thought,  looked  more 
like  harmless  hammer  marks — were  the  result,  which  led 
his  comrades  to  give  him  that  name.  Knowing  something 
of  bears  in  other  parts  of  tlie  world,  serious  doubts  began 
to  rise  in  my  mind  that  the  oft-repeated  stories  of  the 
terrible  ferocity  of  the  grizzly  were  sad  exaggerations,  and 
my  adventurous  ardour  to  add  this  prize  to  my  list  of  slain 
became  grievously  dampened.  However,  fortunately  for 
the  reputation  of  old  Ephraim,  the  dead  "  give  away  "  that 
was  in  store  for  the  bad  man  who  ventured  to  impugn  the 
ferocity  of  his  kind,  removed  the  shadowy  blemish  from  his 
character.  "Bearclaw  Joe"  and  I  were  walking  through 
the  streets  of  the  town,  when  we  happened  to  pass  one  of 
the  five  or  six  meat  and  game  shops  the  town  boasts  of 
On  a  strong  iron  hook  attached  to  the  outside  hung  the 
carcass  of  a  big  grizzly.  Naturally  I  was  interested  in  the 
sight,  and  stopped  to  examine  the  slandered  one's  corpse. 
My  companion  seemed  in  a  hurry,  and  when  finally  I 
pointed  out  that  the  bear's  forepaw  had  been  cut  off,  his 
haste  to  get  away  increased.  Everything,  however,  would 
have  passed  off  unsuspected  had  not,  just  as  we  were 
turning  away,  the  owner  of  the  shop  come  to  the  door,  and 
addressed  my  companion  in  words  which,  somewhat  toned 
down,  ran  as  follows :  "  You  cussed  bull-whacking  son  of 
a  dog  I  what  in  Texas  did  you  mean  cutting  off  that  er' 
forepaw  last  night  ?  Neighbour  S.  saw  you  do  it,  you 
Texas-begotten  steer-smasher  I  "  What  would  have  fol- 
lowed had  my  friend  "  stayed  with  him ''  I  know  not ; 
but  fortunately  the  next  corner  was  put  between  the  twf 


An  Introductory  Camp,  15 

in  the  shortest  of  time,  while  the  greasy  locks  of  the  thief 
streaming  behind  him  were  the  last  I  saw  of  noble  "  Bear- 
claw  Joe.''  On  making  inquiries,  I  learnt  that  the  great 
hunter  was  nothing  but  a  bull-whacker  (teamster),  and 
had  been  led  to  lay  aside  for  a  season  his  bull-persuading 
"black  snake''  whip,  tempted  by  the  big  wages  he  could 
make  ^'trundling  tenderfeet  outfits  through  the  country !  " 

The  genuine  trapper  is  a  very  different  being  to  the 
usual  run  of  these  self-constituted  guides.  You  can 
generally  know  him  by  his  unobtrusive  and  taciturn 
manners  in  the  presence  of  strangers. 

Of  the  old  guard  of  famous  Rocky  Mountain  "Fur 
company  '*  voyageurs  there  are  but  very  few  left ;  the  two  or 
three  I  know  are  grizzly  septuagenarians.  The  present  race 
are  younger  men,  who  have  passed  a  long  apprenticeship 
under  old  veterans.  The  genuine  trapper  one  very  rarely 
meets  in  towns  or  other  haunts  of  frontier  civilization. 
They  are  out  all  the  year  round,  visiting  outlying  settle- 
ments only  every  six  months,  to  get  their  stores  (provisions). 
Many  of  them  have  not  slept  in  a  bed  for  fifteen  or  twenty 
years,  and  they  love  not  the  luxuries  of  civilization,  living 
a  life  as  independent  of  social  fetters  as  it  is  well  possible 
to  imagine.  Very  few  of  them  ever  marry  ;  and  death, 
which  has  stared  them  in  the  face  times  out  of  number, 
finally  surprises  them,  in  the  shape  of  scalp-hunting  red- 
skins or  a  fierce  eight-day  snowstorm  in  a  shelterless 
region,  or  an  infuriated  she-grizzly,  or  in  any  one  of  the 
many  other  guises  in  which  the  grim  master  is  wont  to 
call  in  the  lonely  hunter's  checks.  Few  miss  them  ;  and 
when  one  fails  to  put  in  his  appearance  at  the  frontier 
store  where  in  spring  and  autumn  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
purchasing  his  modest  **  grub  outfit,"  a  casual  "Guess  the 


1 6  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

old  stag  has  gone  up !  "  and  a  regretful  sigh  on  the  part 
of  the  enterprising  owner  of  the  general  emporium,  where 
the  unworldly  old  buck  used  to  trade  his  valuable  peltry 
for  third-class  flour  and  adulterated  coffee,  will  be  about 
all  that  mankind  can  spare  for  the  wanderer. 

Among  the  rough  and  uncouth  champions  of  the 
wilds,  beneath  a  very  shaggy  exterior  there  are  hidden 
many  of  the  large-hearted  qualities  of  ideal  man  in  his 
primitive  state.  You  find  among  them  men — true  men — 
on  whose  word  you  can  build,  and  on  whose  quiet,  cool- 
headed  though  subdued  courage  you  can  implicitly  depend. 
Happily  not  a  few  of  our  best  sportsmen  who  well  know 
the  West  have  on  different  occasions  stood  up  for  the 
sterling  stuff  of  the  genuine  frontiersman. 

Port,  the  leading  spirit  in  our  party,  is  such  a  man — 
about  thirty -four  years  of  age,  tall,  squarely  built,  with 
very  sound  bodily  strength,  and  as  sound  constitution, 
which,  as  he  will  tell  you,  not  even  the  two  nights  he 
slept  in  a  proper  bed  in  eleven  years  have  succeeded  in 
imdermining.  His  face  is  tanned  to  a  Sioux  brownish- 
red  ;  and  a  fine  beard,  kept  very  cleanly,  hides  the  lower 
portion  of  his  pleasant  features.  A  glance  at  the  outer 
shell,  a  look  into  the  grey-blue  eyes,  betray  the  character 
of  the  man  before  you.  Very  silent  in  the  presence  of 
strangers — always  a  good  sign  in  this  Western  country — his 
appearance  pleased  me  from  the  first.  He  was  ''  riz  *'  in 
West  Kansas  in  its  earliest  days,  when  the  eastern  portion 
of  that  State  was  the  '^  bleeding  Kansas ''  of  which  twenty 
years  ago  we  heard  so  much.  Settlements  were  far 
apart ;  and  the  dreaded  invasions  of  the  bloodthirsty  red 
man,  chiefly  the  Cheyennes,  followed  by  the  unheard-of 
ravages  of  the  fiendish  white  man's  Border-Roughian  War, 


An  Introductory  Camp,  17 

tnat  turned  such  men  as  Quantrell  and  the  James  boys  into 
beasts  more  savage  than  hyaBnas,  made  Port  from  his 
earliest  youth  acquainted  with  rapine. 

Before  he  left  his  mother's  lap  he  saw  blood  shed  \ 
before  he  could  walk  he  saw  men  strung  up  and  shot ;  and 
before  he  could  read  he  had  killed  his  Indian.  He  left 
his  home  at  the  early  age  of  nine ;  "  going  West "  was  his 
fancy,  and  the  yet  untrodden  wilds  of  the  Eocky  Moun- 
tains his  dream.  He  passed  a  long  trapper  apprentice- 
ship under  one  of  the  old  guard  of  fur-hunters,  and 
his  subsequent  career,  as  Indian  scout  in  some  of  the 
most  sanguinary  Indian  wars  on  the  Plains,  developed  in 
him  all  those  qualities  which  make  him  such  an  invaluable 
companion  in  a  country  where  certain  risks  are  not  absent 
if  the  party  is  so  numerically  weak  as  ours  is.  It  takes 
moments  of  danger  to  discover  a  man's  true  grit — the 
"  bottom  sand/'  as  a  plainsman  would  say.  On  the  one 
or  two  occasions  of  such  a  nature,  when  I  happened  to  be 
at  his  side,  his  self-reliant  coolness  convinced  me  that  in 
times  of  risk,  no  less  than  at  the  quiet  camp  fireside,  I 
could  have  no  trustier  companion. 

The  manliness  about  Port  and  other  men  of  his  calling 
is  not  that  of  the  bravado,  or  that  of  the  "  bad  man  " 
of  literature ;  but  the  quiet,  unobtrusive  manliness  of  a 
character  that,  while  it  knows  not  what  pusillanimous 
fear  is,  yet  knows  what  death  is — of  a  nature  that,  while 
born  and  bred  to  carry  life  on  the  open  palm,  is  yet  for 
ever  ready  to  do  grim  battle  in  its  defence. 

Port  is  full  of  quiet,  dry,  hammer  and-tongs  humour. 
His  sallies,  in  their  pointed  but  good-natured  criticism, 
spare  neither  present  nor  absent  ones.  This  sparkling 
bantering  wit,  the  happy  creation  of  the  moment  which 

0 


1 8  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

when  once  you  have  bidden  good-bye  to  white  woman's 
face,  and  have  exchanged  your  town  garb  for  that  faf 
more  comfortable  flannel  jumper,  has,  in  its  racy  abandon^ 
charms  that  go  hand  in  hand  with  the  life  you  lead  and 
with  the  wild  scenery  about  you. 

The  two  remaining  men  will  take  up  less  space.  "What 
I  have  said  of  Port  holds  good  for  Edd  and  Henry.  The 
first  of  the  two  is  Port's  junior  by  several  years.  Bom 
in  the  East,  he  came  West  twelve  or  thirteen  years  ago, 
and  has  ever  since  been  hunting  and  trapping ;  though 
the  tour  under  consideration  is  the  only  one  on  which  he 
has  been  in  our  outfit. 

Henry,  the  boy  cook  and  general  factotum,  is  a  lad  of 
seventeen,  who  has  been  with  me  for  the  two  last  expedi- 
tions. "Skipping''  three  years  ago  his  Iowa  home, 
where  his  father,  so  I  am  told,  holds  the  position  of 
judge,  he  came  West,  and  luck  guided  him  into  Port's 
camp.  He  is  more  of  a  character  than  Edd,  and  bids  to 
become  a  genuine  old  mountaineer  in  an  astonishingly 
short  time.  Intelligent,  full  of  Western  humour,  life  in 
the  wilds  has  already  removed  from  him  the  polish  of  a 
more  civilized  existence. 

From  Master  Henry,  who,  I  have  strong  proofs,  is 
much  attached  to  me,  it  would  go  hard  to  get  out  a 
'^  thank  you,"  except  perhaps  for  some  unusual  or  specially 
gratifying  gift;  but  I  cannot  say  I  like  him  much  the  less 
for  it.  At  first  I  was  often  exasperated  by  this  habit, 
but  the  boy  soon  showed  me  he  meant  not  what  his  manner 
implied. 

A  ludicrous  interview,  to  which  a  half-starved  "  cattle 
boss,"  who  happened  to  stray  into  the  vicinity  of  our 
camp  and  partook  of  our  hospitality,  subjected  me,  showi 


An  Introductory  Camp.  19 

that  "  thank  you "  is,  according  to  the  laconic  and  not 
over  polite  manners  of  the  West,  a  superfluous  form.  The 
meal  over,  I  happened  to  be  left  alone  with  the  now  good- 
humouredly  satiated  ''  cow-puncher."  "  Say,  mister,''  he 
began,  *'  aint  you  the  boss  as  runs  this  outfit  ?  '*  To  my 
affirmative  answer  he  replied,  "  Well,  say,  that's  kinder 
strange.  Why  I'll  be  darned  if  you  wasn't  the  only  cuss 
who  said  thank  ye  when  the  grub  pile  was  trundled  over 
to  yer  side."  I  told  him  that  I  hadn't  got  over  that 
habit  yet;  to  which  he  naively  replied,  *' Them's  bad 
habits  of  civi-ly-sashon.  Out  here  them  tony  chin  music 
don't  pan  worth  a  cent." 

Henry  is  full  of  Western  repartee.  An  acquaintance 
once  remonstrated  with  him  in  quite  undeservedly  severe 
words  for  some  defective  cooking.  Being  no  particular 
favourite  among  the  men,  the  boy  answered  him  "  right 
smartly."  **  Wa'al,"  he  said,  "  I  was  born  for  a  cook,  but 
the  devil  stole  the  pattern  and  ran  off  with  it.  I  kinder 
reckon  he  must  have  loaned  it  to  you."  There  was  no 
more  fault-finding. 

An  absent  one  I  must  not  forget,  for  notwithstanding  his 
red  skin  he  proved  himself  a  trustworthy  fellow,  and,  for 
an  Indian,  a  fair  hunter.  This  is  "old  Christmas"^  a 
Soshone,  who  was  with  us  on  and  off  for  some  time.  At 
first  he  could  not  praise  our  camp  too  highly;  it  was 
"  boss,"  "  heap  good,"  and  "  heap  eat,  and  heap  buckskin," 
alluding  to  the  victims  of  my  Express,  which,  whether  elk, 
deer,  or  bighorn,  are  all  called  "  buckskin "  by  Indians, 
and  were  disposed  of  by  him  among  his  voracious  brother- 
hood with  an  amusing  assumption  of  condescending 
hauteur.  All  went  well,  as  I  say,  until  we  ran  out  of 
^  For  obvioas  reasons,  I  have  had  to  lengthen  his  name  bj  a  syllable. 

c  2 


20  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

grub,  and  for  more  than  a  fortnight  had  to  "  go  it  '*  on 
meat  "straight,"  without  bread,  coffee,  sugar,  or  salt. 
This  was  bad,  and  none  of  us  felt  it  more  than  "old 
Christmas."  One  evening  we  were  sitting  round  the 
fire,  consulting  over  the  dismal  outlook — 200  miles  to 
the  next  post,  and  all  the  horses  "  plum  played  out " — 
when  Port,  in  his  most  serious  tone  of  voice,  remarked  in 
a  sort  of  stage  whisper  across  the  fire  to  me,  "  Well,  I 
guess  well  have  soon  to  go  on  old  Christmas  '  straight.'  '* 
Overheard  by  the  red  man,  as  was  of  course  intended,  we 
saw  a  peculiar  look  spread  over  his  stolid  face  ;  and  the  next 
morning  old  Christmas,  with  his  horses,  had  "  vamoosed/* 
When,  months  afterwards,  we  returned  to  the  Agency,  we 
found  our  reputation  among  the  Indians  sorely  blackened 
by  the  name  they  had  given  us, "  The  outfit  who  scare  poor 
Indians. '' 

So  now,  reader,  you  know  my  companions.  They  are 
thoroughly  good  fellows,  genial,  and  devoted  to  me ;  and  a 
pleasant  and  never  broken  accord — the  paramount  con- 
ditions for  an  undertaking  of  this  kind — has  long  been 
established  between  us. 

Before  concluding  this  introductionary  chapter,  let  me 
say  a  few  words  on  the  West  generally,  the  people  and 
their  ethics. 

Mentally  and  physically,  ethnographically  and  topogra- 
phically the  West  is  a  land  of  experiment.  Everything  is 
tried  and  tested — the  soil,  the  climate,  and  Nature  generally, 
no  less  than  man  ;  his  spirit,  his  endurance,  his  honesty, 
and  his  depravity,  one  and  all,  are  experimented  on  with  a 
ruthless  vigour  of  which  it  is  diflScult  to  form  an  adequate 
idea.  No  contrivance  can  be  too  new,  no  idea  too  originaL 
Reverence  for  old  landmarks  and  time-hallowed  institu- 


An  Intro dtcctory  Camp,  21 

tions  the  frontiersman  knows  not,  for  there  are  none  of 
these  venerable  finger-posts  to  mature  civilization.  No- 
thing on  the  face  of  the  broad  Earth  is  sacred  to  him. 
Nature  presents  herself  as  his  slave.  He  digs  and  delves 
wherever  he  fancies ;  forests  are  there  but  to  be  felled,  or, 
if  that  process  be  too  slow  and  laborious,  to  be  set  ablaze ; 
mountains  are  made  to  be  honeycombed  by  his  drills  and 
sluices ;  rocks  and  hills  exist  but  to  be  blasted  or  to  be 
spirited  away  by  the  powerful  jet  from  the  nozzle  of  his 
hydraulic  tube.  Landscape  itself  is  not  secure,  for  emi- 
nences may  be  levelled,  lakes  laid  dry,  and  the  watercourse 
of  rivers  may  be  turned  off,  as  best  suits  his  immediate 
desires. 

The  same  hands  that  tackle  nature  in  such  a  robust 
though  shockingly  irreverent  manner,  show  little  respect 
for  the  mandates  and  dignity  of  a  more  orderly  social 
condition.  They  build  a  church  that  in  weekdays  can  be 
used  as  a  grain  elevator ;  and  with  the  same  unceremonious 
haste  that  a  "  graveyard  "  is  started,  it  will,  should  the  soil 
happen  to  prove  rich  in  precious  ores,  be  turned  into  a 
silver  mine.*    The  Western  man  makes  his  own  laws — not 

•  The  well-known  Deadman's  Claim  in  Leadville  is  not  the  only 
instance  of  a  cemetery  being  turned  into  a  silver-mine.  From  a  late 
work  on  Leadville  I  take  the  following  details:— "It  was  winter; 
Scotty  had  died,  and  the  boys,  wanting  to  give  him  a  right  smart 
burial,  hired  a  man  for  twenty  dollars  to  dig  a  grave  through  ten  feet 
of  snow  and  six  feet  of  hard  ground.  Meanwhile  Scotty  was  stuffed 
into  a  snow  bank.  Nothing  was  heard  of  the  gravedigger  for  three 
days,  and  the  boys  going  out  to  see  what  had  happened  to  him,  found 
him  in  a  hole,  which,  begun  as  a  grave,  proved  to  be  a  sixty-ounce 
silver-ore  mine.  The  quasi  sexton  refused  to  yield,  and  was  not  hard 
pushed.  Scotty  was  forgotten,  and  stayed  in  the  snowbank  till  the 
April  sun  searched  him  out,  the  boys  meanwhile  making  prospect  holes 
in  his  intended  cemetery." 


22  Camps  in  the  Rockies . 

a  day  before  they  are  required  ;  and  he  enforces  them  him* 
self.  He  is  his  own  judge,  father  confessor,  and  execu- 
tioner ;  but  one  and  all  are  mere  experiments.  The  laws, 
the  judge,  and  the  sheriff  are  just  as  much  on  their  trial 
as  the  culprit. 

If  we  look  at  the  result  of  all  this  twenty  years'  experi- 
mentalizing, we  see  the  unfinished  rough  sketch  of  a  coun- 
try, vast  and  great,  as  few  ever  were,  and  as  none  other  now 
is — peopled,  as  would  seem  to  me,  not  by  the  strange  med- 
ley of  race  and  temperament  as  is  so  often  remarked,  but 
rather  by  a  community  about  which  there  is  a  singular  una- 
nimity of  purpose  and  a  startling  uniformity  of  character. 
The  Western  man  is  essentially  a  cosmopolitan  in  regard  to 
the  largeness  of  his  ideas  and  the  unprejudiced  sympathy 
with  the  thoughts,manner8,  and  eccentricities  of  others.  Just 
as  the  tattered  garb  of  the  miner  hides  often  some  sterling 
qualities  of  a  strong  manhood,  the  whole  community,  rough 
and  unpolished  as  it  appears  to  the  superficial  observer, 
comprises  the  essential  characteristics  of  a  great  people. 
Good  manners  are  called  the  final  flowers  of  civilization, 
some  say  they  are  the  sign  of  its  decay ;  and  as  a  clever 
American  writer  has  pointed  out,  the  polishing  of  a  people 
is  a  slow  process.  In  the  case  of  the  Western  nation,  the 
conditions  are  of  an  exceptional  kind  ;  for  not  only  are  those 
under  which  manners  are  to  be  formed  glaringly  new  in 
the  absence  of  the  traditions  of  caste  and  of  history,  but 
they  are  doubly  new  in  the  addition  of  the  dogma  of 
equality. 

There  are  three  very  admirable  qualities  to  be  found 
in  the  Western  character.  The  first  is  the  sturdy 
capacity  of  self-help,  and  genial  readiness  for  mutual 
succour — the  latter  a  concomitant  result  of  the  former; 


An  Introductory  Camp.  23 

secondly,  his  alert  common  sense,  leading  him  to  shun  and 
to  deride  the  hypocrite  and  the  pretentious  :  and  thirdly, 
the  manliness  that  under  all  circumstances  does  honour 
to  itself  by  the  uniform  respect  paid  to  woman. 

If  I  add  still — what  I  do  with  great  pleasure — that  the 
frontiersman  is  the  most  hospitable  being  imaginable,  I 
say  not  only  what  is  true,  but  what  makes  itself  pleasantly 
manifest  to  the  stranger.  The  poorest  cowboy  or  miner 
will  exhibit  an  unselfish  and  genuinely  hearty  hospitality, 
such  as  only  can  be  found  in  a  frontier  country,  where 
civilization  has  not  yet  managed  to  cast  over  the  indi- 
viduality of  man  her  gloomy  and  repellent  shroud,  of  so 
called  *'  good  manners.'^ 

But  enough  of  this  tedious  generalizing.  In  the  eyes 
of  most  Englishmen,  and,  in  fact,  of  Europeans  who  have 
not  visited  those  regions  themselves,  the  West — the  "far** 
West,  I  mean — is  a  very  lusty,  not  to  say  rowdy  country, 
where  blasphemy,  murder,  and  swindling  are  more  than 
rife.  They  judge  by  what  they  have  read;  and  their 
opinion  would  be  perfectly  justified,  were  it  not  that  with 
few  exceptions  authors  have  seemed  to  centre  their 
attention  on  the  careful  collection  of  as  many  instances  of 
barbarism  and  crime  as  their  pens  could  lay  hold  of, 
thus  presenting  the  country  in  a  most  unfavourable,  and, 
I  am  prepared  to  say,  incorrect  light.  This  is  perhaps 
bold  fault-finding,  and  hardly  compatible  with  the  diffi- 
dence I  feel  in  obtruding  my  own  personal  experience 
when  it  is  so  strongly  at  variance  with  the  dictum  of  far 
abler  writers  ;  but  as  I  am  very  convinced  of  its  reason- 
ableness, I  may  perhaps  be  excused  on  the  ground  of 
my  more  extensive  travels  and  more  prolonged  sojourn 
among    frontier  populations.      If  we  look  at  the  list  of 


24  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

books  on  the  West,  it  is  startling  to  see  on  what  very 
short  acquaintance  many  of  their  authors  have  put 
pen  to  paper.  There  decidedly  must  be  some  quite 
irresistible  attraction  in  the  solution  of  the  Indian  ques- 
tion, and  in  the  fact  of  filling  pages  and  chapters  with 
homicidal  tales ;  for  there  is  a  singular  unanimity  in  all 
"Western  books  on  that  score.  A  ride  across  the  Continent 
in  a  stage-coach,  or  a  fortnight^s  *'  fly^'  about  the  country 
in  a  palace  car,  where  they  of  course  never  saw  a  wild 
Indian,  seems  in  many  cases  to  be  considered  sufiBcient 
to  warrant  the  expression  of  very  decided  opinions  on 
what  the  Indians  should  do  and  the  white  man  should 
not — for  of  course  those  philanthropic  traits  that  are 
component  parts  of  all  great  characters  mud  be  aired  ; 
and  with  touching  magnanimity  they  show  mercy — on 
paper — at  the  cost  of  other  people's  scalps.  All  this  has 
contributed  to  make  the  word  '*  author "  rather  a  bye- 
word  among  Western  men,  and  the  being  who  sports  it 
a  person  to  whom  it  is  hardly  worth  while  telling  a  good 
lie ;  anything  will  do  for  them  "  inkslinging  tenderfeet.'' 

Seriously  speaking,  there  is,  I  suppose,  no  country 
in  the  world  on  which  so  much  has  been  written,  based 
on  less  personal  experience. 

If  there  is  anything  that  the  educated  American  of  the 
Atlantic  States  resents,  it  is  the  spirit  of  patronizing 
protection,  often  exhibited  in  an  unwarrantable  manner, 
by  English  writers  when  criticizing  the  ethics  of  the 
United  States.  The  self-assured  Western  man,  less  thin- 
skinned  than  his  Eastern  brother,  rather  enjoys  this ;  for 
to  his  keen  humour  it  presents  always  welcome  opportu- 
nity to  get  off  some  good  story  at  the  cost  of  the  author. 
There  are  some  good  ones  abroad,  for  he  is  an  adept  at 


An  Introductory  Camp,  11 5 

reading  characters  ;  and  to  the  average  frontiersman, 
nothing  affords  more  enjoyable  fun  than  playing  on  the 
gullibility  of  strangers. 

It  is  amazing  what  questions  travellers  will  ask ;  but  it 
is  very  much  more  amazing  what  answers  they  will  believe, 
or  at  least  apparently  do  so,  to  judge  by  "  facts ''  in  their 
books  culled  from  the  mouths  of  romancing  "  bad  men/' 

The  late  tragic  occurrence  at  Washington,  the  work  of 
a  maniac,  infused  fresh  life  into  revolver  literature,  and 
raised  another  great  wave  of  shooting  tales.  Quite  recent 
authors  have  given  the  world  a  good  many  pages  of 
frightful  homicidal  stories — not  of  their  own  experience, 
but  what  "  oldest  inhabitants  "  and  railway-train  friends 
told  them. 

So  far  as  I  can  remember,  there  is  not  a  single  one 
among  the  host  of  past  and  present  authors  on  the  "West 
who  ever  saw  a  man  either  shot  or  lynched  out  West ;  and 
yet  what  startling  pictures  of  lawlessness  do  they  not  give 
us !  We  laugh  at  the  American  tourist  who  at  Holyrood 
mistakes  the  butler  for  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  and  in 
Westminster  Abbey  addresses  a  chorister  as  the  Dean; 
but  surely  the  mistakes  our  tourists  make  are  equally 
startling,  for  they  believe  very  harmless  blusterers  to  be 
desperadoes  of  the  worst  type,  and  that  to  visit  the  West 
without  a  revolver  in  each  coat-tail  pocket  is  risking  their 
lives  in  a  very  reckless  manner. 

Everybody,  or  nearly  everybody,  has  heard  of  those 
two  old  Western  revolver  stories  of  the  divine  and  the 
English  tcurist.  The  one  of  the  eminent  divine  from  New 
England,  who  travelling  in  Colorado  for  his  health,  one 
day  went  in  search  of  a  barber's  shop  in  a  Western  city, 
and  on  entering  the  establishment  observed,  it  is  said,  a 


26  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

big  double-barrelled  gun  leaning  against  the  wall.  Having 
a  constitutional  awe  of  fire-arms,  he  hastily  asked  the 
barber  if  the  gun  was  loaded.  A  half-shaved  native,  who 
occupied  the  chair,  turned  around  his  lather -beaten  face 
and  exclaimed, — 

"  Stranger,  ef  you're  in  an  all-fired  hurry,  you'll  find  a 
six-shooter  what  is  loaded  in  my  coat-tail  pocket !  " 

The  other,  the  story  of  an  English  tourist  who  proposed 
to  visit  Arkansas,  and  asked  a  citizen  if  he  ought  to  pro- 
vide himself  with  a  revolver.  *•  Well,"  replied  the  citizen, 
"  you  mout  not  want  one  for  a  month,  and  you  mout  not 
want  one  for  three  months  ;  but  ef  ever  you  did  want  one, 
you  kin  bet  youM  want  it  almighty  sudden !  " 

These  are  both  characteristic  emanations  of  Western 
humour  and  gross  exaggeration,  tales  which  are  nowhere 
more  zestfully  enjoyed  than  right  in  the  very  country 
they  belie.  The  latter  is  suggestive,  and  its  point  may 
well  be  taken  to  heart  by  intending  visitors.  For  thref3 
very  good  reasons  the  tourist  should  abstain  from  carry- 
ing about  with  him  these  arms,  with  which  he  is  far 
more  likely  to  hurt  himself  than  anybody  else.  The  first 
is,  that  as  long  as  he  is  sober,  and  does  not  visit  places 
where  he  has  no  more  business  to  be  than  a  visitor  to  Lon- 
don has  to  frequent  Ratcliffe  or  the  slums  ofi*  the  New  Cut 
after  dark,  he  will  assuredly  never  want  them.  Secondly, 
if  by  mingling  with  bad  company,  or  in  consequence  of 
visiting  places  where  he  should  not  venture,  he  should 
require  an  arm  of  defence,  he  will  be  sadly  "  left ;"  for 
long  before  he  could  extricate  his  weapon,  the  aggressor,  if 
he  is  a  Westerner  on  the  shoot,  would  have  emptied  hia 
six  chambers  into  him.  And  thi-dly,  if  this  disagreeable 
eontingency   did  occur,   on  the  ground  that  if  he  has  no 


An  Introductory  Camp,  27 

revolver  the  man  who  killed  him  will  in  all  probability 
have  something  unpleasant  occur  to  him ;  while  if  he  has 
one,  let  it  be  even  in  the  remotest  corner  of  his  pocket, 
the  case  is  likely  to  resolve  itself  into  justifiable  man- 
slaughter committed  in  self-defence,  and  the  murderer 
will  get  off  scot  free.*  Though  the  latter  is  but  *'  cold- 
mutton'^  comfort,  it  is  at  least  some  satisfaction  to  know 
that  if  one  does  get ''  rubbed  out "  the  person  who  accom- 
plished it  will  have  the  same  happen  to  him. 

Were  Americans  given  to  write  books  on  travel  they 
could,  I  am  very  inclined  to  think,  by  visiting  any  Euro- 
pean country — England  by  no  means  excluded — in  this 
superlatively  superficial  manner,  singling  out  not  the  best 
nor  the  average,  but  tlie  worst  classes  of  the  population, 
furnish,  by  simply  collecting  all  police  court  and  assize 
reports,  a  very  harrowing  calendar  of  crime.  Comparisons 
are  odious,  so  I  will  not  pursue  this  theme.  Let  the  news- 
paper-reading critic  sketch  out  for  himself  such  a  list, 
while,  for  example,  undertaking  a  fanciful  journey  of  say 
7000  miles  on  end  through  England.  It  would  contain 
several  species  of  crimes  which  are  entirely  unknown  in 
the  West.  On  one  of  my  Atlantic  crossings  a  fellow- 
passenger  afforded  me  much  amusement.  He  was  a 
Western   man,    who  had   visited   the   old   world  to  see 

*  The  act  of  brinsjing  your  hand  to  your  hip,  where  the  pistol  is 
generally  carried,  is  a  gesture  warranting  a  man,  in  the  eyes  of  a  Western 
jury,  to  defend  himself,  and  if  he  kills  his  adversary  it  is  justifiable 
manslaughter.  The  act  of  drawing  the  pistol  first  is  called  getting  the 
**  drop  on  you,"  which  is  done  with  marvellous  rapidity,  leaving  un- 
trained hands  not  the  remotest  chance  of  self-defence.  I  have  often 
Been  men  throw  up  their  hats,  then  draw  their  pistol,  cock,  and 
fire  twice,  putting  two  bullets  through  the  hat  before  it  reaches  the 
^ound. 


28  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

'*Your  old  You- rope,"  and  to  exhibit,  aa  he  proudly 
informed  me,  the  first  horned  frog  ever  seen  in  "your 
country."  He  was  full  of  quizzical  'cuteness,  and  some  of 
his  opinions  of  Europeans  things  evinced  the  peculiar 
eharp  wit  of  the  frontier.  He  had  no  very  high  opinion 
of  European  manhood,  as  shown  in  certain  phases  of 
crime  evincing  a  total  disregard  of  the  fundamental  prin- 
ciple of  manly  regard  for  woman.  "If  all  that  thar 
kicking  and  mauling  of  women  whar  tu  happen  out  West, 
you  bet  you'd  see  an  all-fired  lot  of  lynchin*  in  that  'ar 
section  of  the  country " — words  that  tallied  very  con- 
spicuously with  my  own  experience  of  trans-Missourian 
regions ;  for  I  am  strongly  convinced  that  without  excep- 
tion there  is  no  country  where  women  are  treated  so 
respectfully  as  in  the  West,  a  criterion  that  stands,  as 
they  say,  on  its  own  legs. 

Let  us  look  at  the  Western  man  in  the  common  walks 
of  life.  He  is,  as  he  will  tell  you  himself,  a  "  'cute  man 
of  business;  and  don't  you  forget  it/'  His  customers 
make  him  that.  And  business  with  him  means  the  business 
of  getting  rich  as  fast  as  he  can — often  with  policy  as  his 
honesty.  Outside  his  vocation,  in  the  common  relations  of 
life  he  is  an  uncommonly  honest  fellow,  much  more  so 
than  many  men  who  can  claim  a  far  higher  degree  of 
polish,  but  to  whom  mean  pettifogging  is  not  a  matter  of 
abhorrence. 

In  the  West,  a  man,  as  I  said,  is  apt  to  act  as  his  own 
judge  in  all  personal  ofiences,  and  also  as  the  executioner 
of  his  own  sentences.  There  are  many  varieties  of  the 
former ;  but  as,  in  his  self-confident  hurry  to  get  rich,  he 
has  forgotten  to  build  a  gaol  and  provide  a  police  force, 
there  is  naturally  only  one  species  of  the  latter — he  must 


An  Introductory  Camp,  29 

either  ignore  or  kill.  Hence,  as  men  deem  life  too  valu» 
able  to  jeopardize  it  for  some  pettifogging  meanness,  or 
verbal  affront,  or  slander,  they  are,  as  a  rule,  careful  of 
their  words  and  actions. 

If  these  doctrines  of  morality,  which  make  men  honest 
and  civil-mouthed  at  the  point  of  the  revolver,  are  ethics 
that  do  not  come  up  to  a  very  ideal  standard  of  man, 
they  are,  however,  usefully  practical,  and  answer  their 
purpose  remarkably  well.  In  no  country  in  the  world  is 
there  so  little  bullying,  either  physically  or  morally,  as 
in  the  West,  for  there  the  turning  worm  is  apt  to  handle 
his  fire-irons  just  as  dexterously  as  he  who  would  over- 
ride and  crush  him. 

If  a  man  is  "  dragging  on  his  anchor,''  either  in  conse- 
quence of  natural  affinity  to  crime,  or  bad  company,  or 
drink,  with  the  result  that  he  takes  to  a  criminal  life,  you 
can  be  sure  he  will  start  into  his  new  career  with  much 
the  same  cool  daring  enterprise  as  were  he  building  a 
town  or  a  railway.  The  first  horse  or  mule  he  stole  has 
forfeited  his  life  ;  what  matters  whether  far  worse  crimes 
dye  his  hands  ?  He  has  as  much  or  as  little  chance  to 
escape  into  some  distant  district,  and  hide  his  identity 
u  ider  a  different  name,  a  broad  sombrero,  with  an  ever- 
ready  six-shooter  to  arrest  the  first  unpleasant  inquiry, 
whether  he  has  "found  a  set  of  horseshoes'*  (horse- 
thieving)  or  whether  he  has  called  "  hands  up "  to  the 
armed  guard  of  a  bullion  convoy,  and,  to  prove  satis- 
factorily that  he  meant  business,  has  shot  two  or  three 
who  stupidly  resisted.  These  are  the  desperadoes,  the 
pet  children  of  literature  on  the  West — personages  one 
reads  about  so  much,  but  somehow  never,  or  at  any  rate 
very  rarely,  meets. 


30  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

Quite  apart  from  this  class  of  criminals,  but  in  close 
connexion  with  Western  ethics,  stand  the  '*  man- 
slaughterers/'  who  have  killed  in  "  self-defence.*'  Both 
these  terms  are  stretched  a  good  deal  beyond  their  Euro- 
pean meaning,  "We  would  call  the  one  a  murderer,  the 
other  murder ;  but  in  doing  so  we  would  show  our  igno- 
rance of  the  very  rahon  d'etre  of  frontier  life — a  condition 
of  things  upon  which  the  standard  of  old  and  well-regu- 
lated communities  is  not  applicable. 

The  West  rejoices  in  the  absence  of  "  nobs  "  and  "snobs ' 
— worshipped  lords  and  those  that  worship  them  ;  and  the 
spirit,  as  an  American  author  with  some  truth  remarks, 
which  disowns  the  one  and  discountenances  the  other,  **  is 
not  the  noisy  gascon  of  uncurbed  democracy  ;  it  is  the  self- 
asserting,  prideful  scorn  that  comes  of  independent  power 
and  strength." 

The  Western  man  minds  his  own  business,  a  circum- 
stance grimly  paraphrased  by  Brigham  Young's  injunction 
to  his  "  Latter  Day  Saints."' 

The  qualities  of  a  man  stand  on  their  own  merits  ;  he 
falls  or  rises  by  them,  unabeited  in  either  of  these  pro- 
cesses by  extraneous  wealth,  family,  or  condition.  We 
can  understand,  therefore,  that  the  air  of  the  West  is  a 
frightfully  uncongenial  atmosphere  for  vanity  and  self- 
importance.  Airs  and  *' frills,'*  cant  and  braggadocia, 
find,  as  the  same  writer  with  truth  remarks,  no  customers. 
The  true  gentleman  is  heartily  liked,  but  the  swell  is  as 
heartily  hated.     They  have  no  objection  to  good  clothes 

•  To  the  men  he  said :  "  Keep  still  and  mind  your  own  business." 
The  women  he  told  :  "  If  you  see  a  dog  run  by  the  door  with  youi 
husband's  head  in  his  mouth,  say  nothing  till  you  have  consulted 
with  the  Church." 


An  Introductory  Camp.  31 

on  the  back  of  men  who  know  how  to  wear  thom  without 
ostentation.  The  dandy — and  it  is  easy  to  be  a  dandy  in 
the  West — strolling  through  the  streets  of  a  mining 
town,  is  apt  to  be  unpleasantly  reminded  of  this.  As 
likely  as  not  he  will  hear  himself  hailed,  "  Hold  on  tha'r, 
stranger !  When  ye  go  through  this  yer  town,  go  slow,  so 
folks  kin  take  you  in/'  Or  in  dry  quizzical  tones  he  will  be 
asked,  "  Mister,  how  much  do  you  ask  for  it  ?  '*  "  For  what, 
sir  ?  **     *'  Why,  for  the  town  ;  you  look  as  if  you  owned  if 

We  recently  heard  how  a  Scotch  Duke  visiting  the 
West  rode  on  the  cow-catcher  of  a  locomotive.  Though 
it  was  not  just  a  thing  a  Western  man  would  do — at 
least,  if  he  did  not  get  paid  for  such  a  purposeless  job 
—it  yet  evinced  such  a  pleasing  aberration  from  the 
usual  stiffly-starched,  brilliantly  white  cloak  of  British 
superiority,  that  the  Western  people  as  a  man  rose,  and 
hailed  him  with  acclamation.  No  act  of  the  traveller 
could  have  possibly  gained  him  so  immediate  popularity 
as  this  experimental  ride. 

If  ever  men  have  the  right  to  be  proud  of  what  they 
collectively  have  achieved,  they  are  the  frontiersmen 
—be  they  miners,  railway  or  town  builders,  or  cattle-men. 
Nothing  in  the  World's  history  can  be  compared  to  the 
creation  of  the  last  five-and-twenty  years  beyond  the 
Missouri.  Indeed,  the  Western  man  has  outdone  himself. 
In  1865  the  astute  and  much-travelled  General  Sheridan 
said,  when  speaking  of  the  unfeasible  nature  of  the  first 
great  trans-continental  line  of  railway,  that  ''  he  would 
not  buy  a  ticket  for  San  Francisco  for  his  youngest  grand- 
child." Four  years  later  he  himself  travelled  in  a 
Pullman  car  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  coast; 
while  to-day  there  is  complete  a  second  line  across  the 


32  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

Continent,  and  three  more  in  a  more  or  less  advanced  state 
— 20,000  miles  of  railway  being  at  the  present  moment 
travelled  over  in  the  West,  where,  twenty  years  ago,  there 
was  not  a  single  foot  of  track. 

It  is  only  about  thirty-five  years  since  parties  of  men 
began  to  cross  the  Continent,  and  only  about  twenty  since 
the  first  emigration  to  the  Rocky  Mountains.  It  took 
two  and  a  quarter  centuries  for  the  descendants  of  the 
Pilgrims  to  make  their  way  in  force  to  the  Missouri.  A 
tenth  of  those  centuries  sufficed  for  the  exploration  and 
peopling  of  by  far  the  greater  half  of  the  North  American 
Continent. 


CHAPTER  n. 

CAMPS  ON  THE  WAT. 

IDs  of  Plains  travel — Exceptional  seasons — A  Plains  fire — A  funeral— 
The  "  Bad  Medicine  " — Fasting  on  coffee  and  bread— A  veteran 
meat  hunger — Mosquitoes — Final  release  on  Timberline. 

I  THINK  it  is  Ruskin  who  says  there  are  three  material 
things  essential  to  life,  and  no  one  knows  how  to  live 
till  he  has  got  them  ;  Le,  pure  air,  water,  aod  earth. 
Every  one  of  these  three  necessaries  is  remarkably  well 
represented  in  the  West. 

The  air,  as  we  have  heard,  is  decidedly  the  purest  and 
most  invigorating  of  the  globe.  There  is  plenty  of  water 
— at  least  in  the  northern  districts ;  and  as  day  after  day 
we  let  our  eyes  roam  over  the  boundless  Plains,  the  super- 
abundance of  earth  becomes  monotonous.  Unfortunately, 
however,  the  two  latter  are  rarely  present  together.  There 
is  constantly  too  much  of  the  one  and  too  little  of  the 
other,  and  vice  versa, 

I  have  mentioned  that  five  dreary  weeks'  travel  ensued 
after  our  successful  second  start  before  we  reached  our 
goal ;  let  me  touch  upon  some  of  the  most  striking  events, 
which,  though  not  one  of  them  was  in  the  least  uncommon, 
will  give  in  their  totU-ensemble  a  good  idea  of  the  ills  of 


34  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

Plains*  travel.  Injustice,  however,  to  these  much  reviled 
Plains,  I  must  premise,  that  the  season  of  1880  was  in 
several  ways  an  exceptional  one.  On  none  of  our  previous 
or  subsequent  expeditions  has  Nature  placed  so  many 
obstacles  in  our  path.* 

The  winter  of  1879-80  was,  out  West,  a  severe  and 
long  one — though  nothing  like  the  next  one.  Very  much 
snow  fell  in  the  Hocky  Mountains.  Spring,  the  rainy 
time,  was,  on  the  Plains  that  season  conspicuous  by  its 
absence.  Winter  and  snow  one  day  (it  snowed  near 
Cheyenne,  in  the  first  week  of  June),  and  great  summer 
heat  the  next.  The  West  is  at  best  a  country  of  extremes, 
such  as  we  know  not  in  Europe.  A  variation  of  80°  or 
90°  Fahr.  in  twelve  hours  is  by  no  means  unusual ;  and  in 
most  parts  of  Central  and  Western  Wyoming,  not  a  square 
foot  of  which  is  lower  than  6000  feet  over  the  sea,  very 
few  summer  nights  passed  that  the  water  in  our  camp- 
bucket  was  not  coated  with  a  film  of  ice ;  while  at  noon 
the  thermometer  in  the  shade  would  be  up  to  85°  or  90°. 
In  winter  the  extremes  will  occasionally  be  even  greater  ; 
and  in  the  last  winter  I  was  out  (1880-81),  the  cold  was 
twice  below  —  50°  Fahr.  or  some  80°  or  85°  degrees  of  frost. 

As  a  natural  consequence  of  the  absence  of  the  usual 
daily  rains  during  several  weeks,  the  grass,  the  sole  ver- 
dure on  these  elevated  highlands,  failed  to  spring  forth, 
and  great  suffering  among  the  semi-wild  cattle  that  roam 

*  I  must  also  mention,  that  I  could  have  lessened  the  distance  of 
450  miles  by  nearly  half,  had  I  started  from  a  point  further  West,  and 
nearer  to  the  foot-hills  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  As  it  was  early  in 
the  season,  1  desired  to  look  up  soue  of  the  cattle  ranches  of  "Wyoming, 
and  hence  chose  a  much  longer  route  than  was  necessary  for  strictly 
iporting  purposes. 


Camps  on  the  Way,  35 

at  will  over  very  nearly  all  those  regions,  ensued,  lens 
of  thousands  died  for  want  of  water  and  food.  The  whole 
country  presented  a  forbiddingly  barren  and  burnt-up 
aspect ;  and  very  soon  the  great  dearth  of  water,  and  the 
meagre  growth  of  parched  grass  began  to  tell  on  our 
horses,  obliging  us  to  travel  slower  every  day.'  All  the 
streams  and  creeks  rising  on  the  Plains  proper  "  gave 
out,''  %,e,  went  dry;  while,  in  perplexing  contrast  to  them, 
the  few  great  rivers  traversing  the  Plains  that  head  or 
have  their  source  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  where  vast 
masses  of  snow  were  succumbing  to  the  warm  June  sun- 
shine, were  more  than  bank  full.  Thus  it  happened  that 
for  a  week  at  a  time  we  would  suffer  from  want  of  water  ; 
whereas  the  next  week  we  would  be  camped  for  several 
days  on  the  banks  of  a  great  river,  such  as  the  Platte  or 
Big  Wind  River,  while  waiting  for  the  waters  to  subside 
80  as  to  allow  us  to  ford  or  swim  the  foaming  torrents 
twenty  feet  deep  and  a  quarter  of  a  mile  broad,  which  at 
other  seasons  of  the  year  would  be  scarce  four  feet  deep, 
and  fifty  or  sixty  yards  across. 

For  days  we  were  a  prey  to  the  pangs  of  thirst,  such  as 
only  is  known  on  the  alkaline  deserts  of  the  Plains ; 
and  were  compelled  to  ride  for  water  from  dawn  till  mid- 
night— to  be  several  times  disappointed  even  then.  Dry 
camps,  Le.  waterless  ones,  were  frequent ;  while  at  other 
times  we  had  only  cattle  or  buffalo- wallow  water  to  quench 
our  thirst.  Coffee-making,  in  these  instances,  became  a 
farce,  the  natural  condition  of  the  liquid  resembling  that 
beverage  in  all  but  smell  and  taste. 

Port,  who  had  lived  in  Arizona  and  New  Mexico,  where 

'  We  had  taken  no  grain  for  the  horses  with  us,  as  in  ordinary 
•easonf  nohodj  would  think  of  doing  so. 

D  2 


36  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

the  scarcity  of  water  develops  a  keen  scent  for  the  remotest 
sign  of  its  presence,  proved  a  wonderful  water-finder, 
Holes,  often  three  and  four  feet  deep,  had  to  be  dug ;  and 
even  then  the  precious  liquid  would  accumulate  so  slowly 
that  it  took  three  or  four  hours  to  collect  a  cupful  of  water 
for  each  human  and  animal  being.  I  need  not  say  what 
weary  times  those  were,  when,  after  thirteen  or  fourteen 
thirsty  hours  in  the  saddle,  the  two  spades  or  picks  would 
have  to  be  taken  in  turns,  and  by  the  light  of  sagebrush 
torches  a  water-hole  dug.  The  tired  animals,  suffering  from 
the  pangs  of  fierce  thirst,  would  crowd  round  us  and  watch 
the  proceedings  with  intelligent  understanding ;  and  when 
the  hole  was  dug,  and  a  camp  cup  placed  in  the  bottom  to 
catch  the  valuable  drops,  one  of  us  had  to  guard  it  to 
prevent  the  eager  brutes  from  tumbling  into  the  hole. 
While  traversing  one  of  these  dreary  waterless  stretches 
of  "  droughty  "  Plains,  w^e  got  a  severe  but  salutary  lesson 
illustrating  how  easily  devastating  Plain  fires  "  get  out/' 
We  had  nooned  at  a  wallow,  and  when  we  started  again 
the  small  fire  we  had  made  to  cook  some  beans  had 
apparently  long  gone  out.  We  had  proceeded  about 
two  miles,  and  just  were  losing  sight  of  the  little 
"  bottom ''  where  we  had  camped,  when,  happening  to 
look  round,  I  perceived  a  huge  volume  of  flames  envelope 
the  spot  where  we  had  camped.  Fires  in  the  dry  season 
are  generally  serious  things,  lasting  frequently  four  or 
five  months ;  and  though  timber,  if  there  is  any,  is 
perfectly  valueless,  they  are  often  very  disastrous  to 
straggling  settlements,  but  especially  to  the  cattle  roam- 
ing over  the  country.  Hence,  the  Territorial  legislature 
has  recently  put  a  heavy  fine  (100/.)  and  imprisonment 
on  the  offence  of  *'  letting  out  "  plain  or  forest  fires. 


Camps  on  the  Way.  37 

Thougli  we  had  already  got  beyond  the  last  white  settle- 
ment, we  were  still  in  cattle  land ;  and  a  timbered  range  of 
mountains  eight  or  ten  miles  off  would  assuredly  have 
been  sacrificed,  had  we  not  resolved,  after  a  brief  moment's 
consultation,  to  try  our  best  to  put  it  out.  Leaving  Henry 
with  the  horses,  the  two  men  and  I  rode  back  as  fast  as 
our  excited  horses  could  carry  us.  A  very  gentle  but 
steady  breeze  was  blowing,  and  long  before  we  got  to  the 
scene  we  heard  the  crackle  and  roar  of  the  flames,  spread- 
ing at  a  great  rate  among  the  sagebrush.  Dry  as  tinder, 
and  of  good  size,  this  shrub  of  the  desert  makes  about  the 
hottest  and  quickest  fire  possible.  Our  saddle  blankets 
were  the  only  available  article  with  which  to  fight  the 
flames.  But  alas  !  by  the  time  all  three  were  well  soaked 
in  the  copper-coloured  wallow  water,  there  was  not  a  drop 
left,  and  the  next  water  was,  as  we  knew,  eighteen  miles 
off.  Taking  the  blankets,  we  rode  bareback  to  the  further 
extremity  of  the  conflagration.  Running  before  the  wind, 
the  flames  were  leaping  onwards  very  nearly  as  fast  as  a 
man  can  walk.  So,  to  have  any  chance  with  what  is  here 
called  counter-burning,  we  had  to  begin  several  hundred 
yards  or  so  ahead.  One  of  us,  taking  a  lighted  sagebrush 
in  hand,  walked  along,  setting  fire  to  the  dense  growth, 
while  the  other  two  did  their  best  to  keep  the  new  fire 
under  control  by  confining  it  to  a  strip  some  twenty  or 
thirty  feet  wide.  This  was  hot  work,  and  had  to  be  done 
very  quickly.  Three  times  did  we  fail  to  complete  the  belt 
before  the  main  fire  was  upon  us,  coming  on  with  a  rush 
and  a  subdued  roar  very  grand  to  behold  from  a  safe 
distance,  but  uncomfortably  awkward  at  close  quarters. 
Each  time  we  had  to  retreat  and  begin  again  a  con- 
siderable  distance  ahead.      The  fourth  attempt   at  last 


38  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

succeeded,  favoured  as  we  were  by  the  lull  in  the  breeefl 
usual  just  before  sundown.  It  was  the  last  effort,  for  we 
were  thoroughly  exhausted,  and  blinded  and  scorched, 
staggered  about  like  inebriates.  It  was  a  close  shave,  too, 
for  the  flames  of  the  main  fire  were  within  a  few  yards  of 
us  when  we  completed  the  belt,  and  the  last  few  seconds  we 
were  working  right  in  the  flames.  Half  blinded,  our  hands 
and  faces,  hair  and  beards  singed,  our  boots  burnt,  nothing 
whatever  left  of  our  saddle-blankets,  two  of  us  minus  our 
shirts,  which  we  had  torn  off"  to  beat  out  the  flames  of  the 
counter  belt,  black  as  negroes,  we  threw  ourselves  on  the 
ground,  too  exhausted  even  to  speak.  It  was  nearly  dark  by 
the  time  we  extinguished  the  last  sagebrush,  and  long  after 
it  when  we  regained  our  horses.  It  had  taken  us  several 
hours  to  master  the  fire,  and  as  the  men  expressed  them- 
selves, "  nothing  but  a  strip  of  sagebrush  country,  a  mile 
long  and  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  width,  blackened  and 
burnt,  to  show  for  it.'* 

That  night's  camp — a  dry  one,  it  is  needless  to  say — 
was  one  of  the  most  uncomfortable  ones  I  remember.  Not 
a  drop  of  water  to  cook,  wash,  or  quench  our  burning 
thirst.  Thereafter  we  took  care  that  the  camp  fire  was 
out  before  leaving  it.  This,  on  referring  to  my  diary,  I 
find,  occurred  on  July  14th.  The  next  day,  one  of  the 
very  hottest  I  can  remember  to  have  experienced  on  the 
Plains,  brought  new  disaster,  in  the  shape  of  a  stampede 
of  the  unbroken  horses,  who  in  an  unguarded  moment 
made  a  break  for  their  home  range,  now  over  300 
miles  to  the  south.  Port,  by  riding  down  one  of  hia 
favourite  saddle-horses,  managed  to  head  them  off,  and 
overtook  us  with  them  the  following  day,  coming  up  to  us 
in  a  grand  rush — the  only  way  a  single  man  can  hope  to 


Camps  on  the  Way.  39 

drive  a  band  of  untrained  horses  so  as  to  keep  them  from 
straying.  The  17th,  18th,  and  19th  July  were  in  their 
way  also  replete  with  unpleasant  experiences.  Before  I 
proceed  to  tell  them,  let  me  explain  how  it  happened  that 
we  were  then  travelling  with  a  heavy  waggon  and  a  band 
of  more  than  perfectly  useless  wild  horses.  Both  were  tc 
be  left  at  Port's  isolated  ranche,  250  miles  from  our 
starting-point,  and  about  half  way  to  our  final  goal,  the 
Big  Wind  River  Mountains,  the  highest  and  longest  chain 
of  the  northern  Rocky  Mountains.  The  horses  Port  had 
bought  quite  recently,  and  owing  to  my  unexpectedly  early 
return,  and  the  fact  that  no  men  to  drive  them  for  us  could 
be  hired  in  the  place  we  started  from,  we  had  to  do  so 
ourselves.  We  were  gradually  approaching  the  place 
where  they  and  the  waggon  were  to  be  left,  and  every- 
thing was  to  be  **  packed,"  i.e.  carried  on  sumpter  or  pack 
horses — a  far  quicker  mode  of  travelling  than  with  a 
waggon,  however  amazing  be  the  roughing  capacities  of 
these  conveyances,'  and  however  wonderful  be  the  skill, 
the  daring,  and  the  swearing  powers  of  a  Western  driver. 

Give  him  a  handy  six-team,  his  powerful  blacksnake 
whip,  and  the  universe  to  fill  with  his  Titanic  language, 
he  will  take  you,  and  a  light  load  of  twenty  or  thirty 
hundredweight,  across  almost  any  chain  of  mountains 
there  is  in  the  United  States  or  in  Europe. 

I  have   myself   crossed  very   steep   mountain   ranges 

■  The  regular  Plains-waggon,  of  which  there  are  several  patterns, 
all  of  well-known  name  and  repute,  are  wonders  of  practical  usefulness 
and  strength,  combined  with  comparative  lightness.  Everything 
about  them — from  the  very  powerful  lever-brake  to  the  axle-nuts  and 
bolt.8 — can  be  taken  asunder  with  perfect  ease.  The  body  is  an  oblong 
box -like  contrivance,  that  can  be  adapted  for  every  kind  of  load,  even 
of  sach  an  heterogeneous  nature  as  timber,  sacks  of  flour,  or  hay. 


40  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

10,000  feet  high  with  one,  traversing  places  where  a 
stranger  would  suppose  a  horseman  could  not  possibly 
get  through.  On  reaching  a  ravine  or  gulch  with 
sides  too  steep  to  venture  to  cross  it  in  the  ordinary 
manner,  the  waggon  is  forthwith  unloaded,  and  the  whole 
machine — wheels,  pole,  box,  and  axles  taken  apart,  and 
carried  piecemeal  over  by  the  men,  and  then  set  up  again, 
and  the  journey  resumed.  Mining  prospectors,  who  travel 
in  a  party,  usually  take  one  of  these  waggons,  with  a  good 
team  of  four  or  six  horses  ;  and  there  are  very  few  places 
indeed  where  they  cannot  get  through  one  way  or  the 
other.  In  crossing  rivers  too  deep  to  ford,  the  box  is 
used  as  a  boat,  fastened  by  a  long  rope  in  the  fashion  of  a 
ferry,  to  a  tree  or  rock  higher  up  the  stream.  Thus  flour 
and  other  damageable  stores  can  be  got  across  perfectly 
dry. 

Hitherto  the  waggon  had  not  given  us  much  trouble, 
the  country  was  of  the  usual  Plains  type — hill  land  of  an 
undulating  character,  hardly  ever  calling  into  use  the 
dreaded  blacksnake  whip.  Port's  simple  "  Git ! "  with 
a  mild  addition  or  two,  being  sufficient  to  keep  the 
team  to  their  collars.  Every  day  or  two  we  would  pass 
an  isolated  cattle  ranche,  deserted  by  the  owner  and  his 
men,  who  were  away  on  the  summer  "  round-up,"  e.e.  collect- 
ing their  bovine  property.  On  one  such  occasion,  soon  after 
starting  out,  a  little  incident  happened  illustrating  in  a 
grim  fashion  the  saying  that  frontier  life  is  hard  on  cattle 
and  women. 

While  crossing  a  range  of  hills  we  happened  to  pass 
a  little  settlement,  consisting  of  four  families,  living  im 
miserable,  tumble-down,  windowless  adobe  hovels.  The 
males  were  all  away  *' tie  chopping,'*  and  during  tiieit 


Camps  on  the  Way,  41 

absence  diphtheria  had  swept  off,  in  less  than  four-and- 
twenty  hours,  the  entire  infant  population,  consisting  of 
five  children,  who  were  now  lying  dead  in  the  huts.  In 
my  absence,  and  at  the  prayers  of  the  distracted  mothers, 
the  two  men  who  were  with  the  waggon  emptied  some 
dry-goods  (grocery)  packing-cases,  and  turned  them  into 
coffins  for  the  little  ones,  and,  moreover,  after  unloading 
the  rest  of  the  contents,  drove  the  wretched  mothers  with 
their  dead  little  ones  to  the  nearest  settlement,  fifteen 
miles  off,  where  diphtheria  had  caused  a  children's  grave- 
yard to  be  started.  I  mention  this  little  incident  for  two 
reasons — firstly,  because  it  speaks  well  for  the  kindly 
heart  and  ready  help  the  genuine  frontiersman  invariably 
evinces  ;  and  also  as  a  proof — at  least  apparently  so — of 
the  spontaneous  origin  of  this  fell  disease,  which  in  the 
West  is  the  one  sore  danger  for  children.  I  was  assured 
by  the  afflicted  women  that  they  had  neither  been  visited 
nor  had  seen  living  being  for  seven  days  previous  to  the 
appearance  of  the  disease,  while  the  next  habitation  was 
quite  eight  miles  off,  on  the  other  side  of  the  range  of 
hills. 

But  to  return  to  our  own  little  troubles.  The  third 
day  after  the  fire,  the  character  of  the  landscape  we  were 
passing  through  underwent  a  signal  change.  We  were 
travelling  across  country,  and  had  struck  what  is  known  as 
the  Upper  Shirley  Basin — ten  years  ago  a  very  famous  resort 
for  Indians  and  game.  A  stream,  named  very  appropriately 
the  **  Bad  Medicine,"  passes  through  it,  and  we  had  to 
cross  it  three  times  in  four  days.  Western  rivers  are  all 
very  arbitrary  and  self-willed  powers  in  the  land.  Many 
have  a  bad  name  for  most  dangerous  quicksands,  others  for 
their  extraordinarily  rapid  rise.  Some  of  the  larger  creeks 


42  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

in  the  nortliem  "  bad-lands  *'  are  known  to  rise  twenty  and 
thirty  feet  in  half  an  hour,  in  consequence  of  rainstorms. 
Again,  others  take  it  into  their  heads  to  sink  out  of 
sight  just  when  their  precious  liquid  is  most  wanted,  and 
keep  out  of  man's  way  for  ten  or  twenty,  in  places  even 
for  sixty,  miles.  I  know  not  of  one  single  river  or  stream 
west  of  the  Missouri  that  has  not  some  more  or  less 
memorable  awkward  quality  or  characteristic  about  it ;  but 
for  a  coalescence  of  all  possible  vileness  on  the  part  of  a 
creek  give  me  the  "  Bad  Medicine,"  where  we  struck  it  on 
our  last  trip. 

The  Shirley  Basin  is  entirely  of  the  maumisea  terrea 
or  bad-land  character,  the  chief  characteristic  of  which  is 
a  verdureless,  spongy,  or  claylike  soil,  riven  by  great  gaps 
with  treacherous  banks.  Through  this  rotten  and  water- 
worn  country  the  creek  had  carved  itself  a  tortuous  bed, 
with  overhanging  banks  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  high,  so 
that  its  bed  at  the  water-level  was  broader  than  the  open- 
ing at  the  top,  giving  it  in  places  the  character  of  a  semi- 
subterraneous  stream.  The  "  Bad  Medicine  "  is  strictly  a 
Plains  river,  so  when  we  reached  it  we  found  it  suffering 
from  the  general  drought,  and  no  water  save  occasional 
stagnant  pools  in  it.  This,  however,  did  not  facilitate 
matters,  for  it  was  the  bed  of  the  stream  not  its  water  that 
puzzled  our  ingenuity.  The  banks  were  so  rotten  that, 
when  on  our  first  striking  it  I  approached  the  brink,  for- 
tunately  on  foot,  it  broke  under  me,  and  I  fell  some 
twelve  feet,  landing  on  a  mud  bank,  in  which,  had  not  a 
rope  been  thrown  to  me,  I  would  have  very  quickly  dis- 
appeared. When,  therefore,  I  say  that  we  crossed  this 
Styx  with  waggon  and  horses  three  times  in  three  days, 
the  reader  can  fairly  picture  to  himself  the  nature  of  the 


Camps  on  the  Way.  43 

job.  The  first  crossing  was  managed  by  cutting  down  the 
banks  (we  had  then  two  picks  and  two  shovels  with  us), 
and  making  a  very  steep  roadway  to  the  water-level. 
Next,  no  timber  being  near,  we  had  to  collect  great 
quantities  of  sagebrush  to  make  a  foundation  for  a 
banked  dam  across  the  creek,  sufficiently  solid  to  let 
the  heavy  waggon  pass  over  it :  this  took  us  nearly  the 
whole  day.  The  two  miles  we  pulled  on  that  evening 
brought  us  to  a  worse  place,  where,  without  twice  the 
labour,  we  could  not  build  a  similar  dammed  bridge.  So 
the  waggon  had  to  be  unloaded,  taken  asunder,  and  every- 
thing carried  across  piecemeal.  The  third  crossing,  near 
which  there  were  some  trees,  was  performed  by  means  of 
a  timber  bridge  we  threw  across  the  yawning  gulf,  taking 
us  rather  more  than  a  day's  hard  work.  Thus  in  nearly 
four  days  we  travelled  rather  less  than  four  miles.  Forty- 
eight  hours  later  we  struck  the  Platte  river  at  one  of  the 
few  fords,  where,  a  month  later,  a  man  could  wade 
across.  It  was  now  a  huge  mountain  torrent,  the  yellow 
masses  of  water  rushing  over  some  rapids  with  a  roar  we 
heard  a  mile  off.  It  was  far  too  high  and  swift  to  risk 
swimming  it ;  so  we  had  to  pitch  camp,  and  wait  till  the 
waters  subsided,  which  they  did  very  rapidly,  for  the 
season  was  already  unusually  far  advanced  for  these 
freshets.  When  we  finally  ventured  it,  the  water  was 
about  six  feet  deep,  obliging  everything  to  swim.  None 
of  the  horses,  with  the  exception  of  the  saddle  animals  and 
one  or  two  of  the  pack-ponies,  had  ever  undergone  a  similar 
experience,  and  we  had  some  very  ludicrous  *'  breaks  "  on 
the  part  of  the  terrified  beasts  when  they  found  themselves 
swept  off  their  legs.  There  were  two  colts,  born  not  quite 
A  week  before;    these  we   did  not  dare  to  trust  to  the 


44  Camps  iv  the  Rockies. 

rushing  torrent,  so  their  four  legs  were  strapped  together, 
and  with  one  tucked  under  the  arm  we  swam  our  own 
horses  across,  the  anxious  mothers  following  at  our  heels. 
It  took  us  six  hours  to  get  the  whole  outfit  to  the  other  side ! 
but  it  was  most  useful  practice,  for  our  subsequent  journey 
along  the  course  of  the  Big  Wind  River  was  replete  with 
similar  crossings.* 

The  following  evening  we  reached  Port's  ranche,  where 
we  halted  for  a  day  to  rig  out  the  pack-train  in  proper 
ship-shape.  Hitherto  we  had  been  travelling  very  slowly, 
on  an  average  not  more  than  ten  or  twelve  miles  a  day ; 
but  now,  rid  of  the  troublesome  band  of  horses  and  the 
lumbering  waggon,  we  proceeded  very  much  quicker,  doing 
often  four  or  five  miles  at  a  stretch  on  a  trot — a  deal  of 
jingle  and  rattle  of  pots,  pans,  and  steel-traps  accompany- 
ing the  performance.  Effecting  an  early  start,  we  used  to 
ride  till  eleven ;  then  if  we  happened  to  strike  water, 
noon  for  a  couple  of  hours,  and  proceed  till  dusk,  the 
distances  between  water,  which  if  possible  we  ascertained 
ahead,  governing  the  speed  of  travel.  To  pack  and 
unpack  eleven  sumpter  or  pack  animals  four  times  a  day, 
not  to  mention  your  own  saddle  animals,  is  a  job  not  as 
easy  as  it  looks  in  writing,  for  you  have  to  combat  with 

*  I  may  here  mention  a  danger  which  "tenderfeet"  expeditions 
are  liable  not  to  notice  till  it  is  too  late.  Most  horses  out  West 
are  ridden  with  Mexican  curbs,  furnished  with  tongue-bits  with 
rowels,  of  cruel  device  and  of  great  power.  In  swimming  rivers, 
attention  should  be  paid  to  give  horses  a  perfectly  free  head,  if  they 
have  these  curbs.  I  saw  a  half-breed's  horse  drowned,  he  himself  very 
nearly  sharing  its  fate,  by  his  tugging  at  the  reins  and  thus  forcing 
open  the  horse's  mouth.  The  stream  was  rapid  and  rough,  so  the 
water  surged  into  the  poor  brute's  mouth,  and  presently  it  sank  undei 
its  rider. 


Camps  on  the  Way.  45 

the  profoundest  stratagems  on  the  part  of  the  wily  old 
stagers  to  frustrate  your  frantic  tug  at  the  lash  rope ; 
and  you  can  be  sure  that  even  if,  by  perseverance  worthy 
of  a  better  cause,  you  have  at  last  managed  the  famous 
"  diamond  "or  '*  Kit  Carson"  hitch  to  the  lash  rope,  it  is  only 
life-long  practice  that  develops  the  skill  of  a  good  packer. 
To  see  Port  pack  nine  or  ten  horses  inside  of  five-and- 
twenty  minutes — the  loads  being  of  course  laid  handy  by  the 
rest  of  us — was  better  than  a  course  of  lectures  on  equine 
metaphysics.  Kindly  and  easy  of  hand  to  those  of  the 
horses  that  had  recognized  the  uselessness  of  resistance,  he 
"  meant  business,  and  no  two  ways  about  it,"  with  those 
that  had  a  **  buck  "  or  a  kick  left  in  them.  A  "  real  mean 
broncho "  is  an  object  worth  close  attention.  He  snorts 
with  rage,  bites,  rears,  bucks,  kicks,  ducks  his  head  and 
throws  it  up  again,  arches  his  back,  and  dashes  himself 
to  the  ground ;  foam  flies  from  his  mouth,  fire  is  in  his 
eyes,  while  his  ears  are  pressed  flat  against  the  head ; 
but  the  powerful  purchase  gained  by  an  outstretched  leg 
pressed  against  his  flank  enables  the  brawny-armed  Port 
to  subdue  that  unnecessary  expenditure  of  vileness  in  a 
very  short  time,  and  for  the  next  five  minutes  that  horse 
will  go  "  teepering  "  about  on  his  toes  for  the  "  cinche  " 
or  girth  that  holds  the  pack-saddle  to  its  place,  and  the 
lash-rope  that  is  thrown  over  the  load  and  round  the 
animal  are  as  taut  as  a  strong  man's  arms  can  make 
them. 

One  of  the  most  unpleasant  results  of  the  great 
drought  which  seared  the  Plains  in  1880,  was  the 
quite  unprecedented  scarcity  of  all  game.  Except  ante- 
lopes, for  the  tasteless  venison  of  which  we  all  have 
a  strong  aversion,  game   is  always  rare  on  the  Plains 


46  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

proper;  but  it  was  much  more  so  the  season  I  am  speaking 
of,  for  even  the  prongbuck  (or  antelope)  had  deserted  his 
usual  runs,  and  had  betaken  himself  to  regions  where 
water  and  grass  were  less  scarce.  Our  outfit  sported  in 
the  way  of  provisions  only  the  very  simplest  articles. 
Besides  500  pounds  of  flour,  an  adequate  quantity  of 
coffee,  tea,  sugar,  and  salt,  and  some  dried  apples  and 
beans,  we  could  not  boast  of  a  single  tin  of  preserved 
meat,  vegetables,  or  such  luxuries  of  camp  life,  with  which 
toothsome  but  bulky  commodities  most  pleasure  expedi- 
tions are  loaded  down.  Hence,  wh(pn  game  failed  us  in 
such  a  very  imexpected  manner  we  were  reduced  to  a  very 
heart-breaking  diet  of  bread,  beans,  and  coffee.  Then  the 
beans  gave  out,  and  for  sixteen  days — endlessly  long  days 
they  seemed — we  lived  exclusively,  or,  as  the  phrase  is, 
*•  grubbed  straight,''  on  bread  and  coffee.  Not  even  when 
we  reached  the  spurs  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  did  we 
strike  game,  till  we  had  penetrated  far  up,  close  to  Timber- 
line  on  the  main  chain.  Where  at  other  times  of  the  year 
wapiti  and  bighorn  roamed  in  great  numbers,  there  was 
not  a  single  animal  left.  "We  longed  for  venison,  and  we 
had  meat  on  our  brain.  The  worst  of  our  starvation  diet 
was,  that  it  played  such  havoc  with  our  fine,  healthy  animal 
spirits  nothing  ever  before  had  managed  to  subdue.  I 
believe  there  are  few  more  temper-trying,  though  in 
reality  harmless  extremities,  than  a  ravenous  appetite 
whetted  to  outrageous  dimensions  by  twelve  or  fourteen 
hours  in  the  saddle  in  the  keen  Western  air,  and  only  such 
unsubstantial  fare  as  bread  and  coffee — let  the  former  be 
ever  so  doughy,  and  the  latter  consisting  of  muddy  dregs 
•—wherewith  to  appease  it. 
Day  after  day  four  disgusted  white  men  and  one  grimly 


Camps  on  the  Way.  47 

glum  red  man  would  assemble  round  a  cheerfully  blazing 
camp  fire  to  play,  as  Port  expressed  himself,  Old  Harry 
with  the  flour-sacks  and  coffee-bags — to  rise  with  an  un- 
comfortable sense  of  vacuity  no  tightening  of  the  waist- 
band or  gathering  in  of  the  six-shooter  belt  could  remove. 
Meat  we  must  have :  it  was  the  cry  in  the  early  morn, 
when  after  a  good  night's  rest  a  glorious  "  break-fast " 
hunger  (%ic)  would  sit  down  with  us  to  the  first  meal  of  the 
day;  meat  was  the  cry  at  noon,  and  meat  was  the  last 
word  at  night ;  indeed,  in  the  case  of  at  least  one  of  the 
party,  even  in  dreamland  would  the  appetite  receive  un- 
necessarily stimulating  fillips  by  fata  morgana  visions  of 
boiling  ribs  of  elk,  and  juicy  tender  loin-steaks  of  a  prime 
three-year-old  bighorn.  One  morning,  I  remember,  a 
grim  laugh  was  raised  by  Henry.  The  evening  before  I 
had  been  telling  the  men — for  conversation  would  keep 
to  suggestive  topics — how  a  very  celebrated  surgeon 
(Professor  Billroth,  of  Vienna)  had  succeeded  in  re- 
moving portions  of  the  stomach  from  cancer  patients,  who 
finally  recovered.  Henry,  it  seems,  had  been  sleeping  that 
night  with  Port,  who  had  reason  to  complain  of  his  rest- 
lessness, and  when  twitted  with  it,  as  with  rueful  faces 
we  were  sitting  round  the  morning  coffee  and  bread,  he 
laconically  remarked  *'  that 'most  anybody  would  be  restless 
if  they  dreamt  that  thar  boss  bone-carpenter  was '  dress- 
ing *  (Ang.  gralloching,  used  when  opening  a  deer)  their 
insides,  and  kinder  couldn't  find  no  stomach  to  take 
out.*'  A  good  sound  hunger  is  a  very  nice  thing — 
nothing  nicer  in  fact  when  just  about  to  be  appeased ; 
but  to  have  that  selfsame  hunger  grow  older,  outstrip 
baby  proportions,  assume  a  more  aggressive  manly  form, 
and  finally  turn  into  a  regular  grizzly  old  veteran  hunger, 


48  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

getting  up  with  you  from  your  meals  and  lying  down 
with  you  at  night,  bathing  with  you  in  the  cool  beaver 
pool  or  mountain  stream,  sitting  on  your  horse  through  long 
dreary  rides,  gnawing  at  your  vitals,  wrecking  your  even 
temper,  turning  your  pleasure-trip  into  a  wretched  parody 
— this,  I  say,  was  hard  to  bear.  And  as  I  look  back  to 
those  days,  I  cannot  hide  from  myself  that  the  very  fact  of 
our  not  having  cut  each  other's  throats,  or  snapped  each 
other's  heads  off,  speaks  volumes  for  the  innate  good 
qualities  of  those  four  white  men.  The  red  man,  juicy 
old  Christmas,  who  knew  our  savage  pleasantry  from 
previous  occasions,  had  suddenly  discovered  urgent 
business  on  the  other  side  of  the  range,  and  had  ridden 
off  with  the  carcass  of  an  unlucky  prairie  dog  dangling  at 
his  saddle-bow. 

Thirst  and  hunger  are  bad  enough,  but  what  are  they 
in  comparison  to  a  scourge  that  swept  down  upon  us  when 
we  struck  the  timbered  foothills  of  the  Rockies,  i.e.  the 
dreaded  mountain  flies — a  species  of  mosquito,  the  most 
terrible  of  the  genus  Culex  ^ 

The  contrasting  extremes  of  the  camel  and  the  gnat  are 
very  applicable,  when  pointing  out  how  very  ridiculous 
it  seems  that  a  big,  burly,  bearded  son  of  his  mother 
should  cut  such  mad  capers,  occupy  such  ludicrous  posi- 
tions, use  such  Titanic  language,  evince  such  an  abnormal 
shortness  of  temper,  and  altogether  present  the  appearance 
of  a  maniac,  just  because  an  animal,  the  body  of  which  is 
smaller  than  a  pin's  head,  chooses  to  make  of  his  person  a 
playground  for  its  microscopic  antics. 

For  the  common  weal  of  mankind  I  hope  there  is  no 
such  mosquito-ridden  place  on  the  green  Earth  as  certain 
marsh v    lakes    about   the   base   of    the   foothills   of  the 


Camps  on  the  Way,  49 

snow-capped  Big  "Wind  River  Mountains.  It  was  in  the 
last  days  of  July,  the  worst  time ;  and  the  whole  district 
was  overwhelmed  by  enormous  clouds  of  these  torments, 
the  creation  of  the  abnormal  drought  which  had  laid  dry 
lakes  and  creeks.  Never  before  having  been  troubled  to  any 
extent  by  mosquitoes,  we  were  totally  unprovided  with  veils, 
or  any  material  that  could  be  substituted,  the  nearest  thing 
to  gauze,  being  empty  canvas  flour  sacks,  which  Jaute  de 
mieux  came  in  very  handy.  One  or  two  of  our  horses 
were  white ;  and  to  give  an  idea  of  the  myriads  of  the 
enemy,  I  may  mention  that  when  seen  from  a  little  dis- 
tance they  appeared  of  uniform  dark  colour.  Life  became 
an  intolerable  misery,  men  and  beasts  suffering  alike.  For 
while  we,  ludicrous  scarecrows,  were  dragging  ourselves 
along,  with  swollen  faces  and  half-closed  eyes,  in  the 
despairing  listlessness  of  men  who  for  a  week  knew  not 
what  a  night's  rest  was,  and  who  for  a  fortnight  had  not 
sat  down  to  the  semblance  of  a  square  meal,  the  poor  brutes 
of  horses  were  staggering  along  under  their  light  loads, 
reduced  to  walking  skeletons  by  the  bloodthirsty  pests. 

But  everything  has  an  end,  so  also  our  unpleasant 
experiences.  In  the  latter  part  of  July  we  reached  Fort 
"Washakie,  the  most  isolated  of  the  military  posts  in  the 
West.  On  leaving  it,  after  a  stay  of  a  couple  of  days, 
we  bid  good-bye  to  fellow-beings,  for  till  the  end  of 
November  I  saw  only  on  two  occasions  strange  white 
faces.  On  August  10th  we  reached  Timberline  on  the 
Sierra  Soshon6,  and  on  the  following  day  struck  a  delight- 
ful oasis  in  the  uppermost  belt  of  forest.  Here  we  made 
the  first  permanent  camp  of  nearly  a  week.  Four-and- 
twenty  hours  later  a  snowstorm  cleared  the  air  of  mos- 
quitoes ;  and  on  the  same  day  I  killed  four  big  wapiti 

s 


50  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

Bfcaga  With  the  first  dinner  where  meat  graced  our  table 
the  spell  was  broken.  For  more  than  four  months  we 
roamed  over  incomparable  mountain  territory,  for  weeks 
camped  at  altitudes  varying  between  10,000  and  12,000 
feet  over  the  sea-level — to-day  perhaps  on  the  bor- 
ders of  one  of  the  hundreds  of  small  exquisitely-beau- 
tiful mountain  tarns  that  dot  the  great  backbone  of  the 
Big  Wind  River  Mountains ;  to-morrow  at  the  brink  of  a 
deep  gloomy  canyon,'  of  mysterious  depth  and  supreme 
grandeur ;  while  on  the  following  day,  night  would  sur- 
prise us  close  to  Timberline,  in  the  dense  green  wilderness 
of  the  pathless  forests  of  the  Western  slopes,  where  we 
would  spread  our  robes  under  the  broad  branches  of  a 
stately  silver  pine ;  the  following  evening's  camp-fire 
lighting  up  great  fantastically-shaped  and  grotesquely- 
coloured  walls  of  rock,  closing  in  on  every  side  a 
small  emerald-tinted  meadow  lining  the  bank  of  a 
turbulent  mountain  stream,  to  which  snug  cliff-bowered 
retreat  access  could  only  be  gained  by  following  the 
beaver's  example,  and  wading  our  horses  through  the 
gloomy  canyons  the  waters  had  worn  through  the  sur- 
rounding mountains.  A  couple  of  weeks  hence  we  would 
probably  be  a  couple  of  hundred  miles  away,  threading  our 
way  through  the  grotesque  mauvaisea  ierres  scenery,  grandly 
coloured,  and  of  the  superbly  bizarre  formation,  by  w  hich 
the  Sierra  Soshon6,  that  unexplored  sea  of  nameless  peaks 
cut  up  by  deep  gorges  of  tortuous  course,  is  distinguished. 
Every  day,  every  hour,  new  scenery,  new  vistas  of 
Alpine  landscape,  burst  upon  our  eyes.  Game  abounded,  and 
from  the  grizzly  to  the  muledeer  exceptionally  large  speci- 

'  In  writing  the  word  canon,  I  p*efer  to  follow  its  phonetio  ren« 
iering. 


Camps  on  the  Way.  51 

mens  rewarded  the  stalks  of  many  hours  along  bad-land 
ledges,  or  the  day's  ride  through  forests. 

The  desire  to  avoid  wearisome  geographical  details 
has  led  me  to  refrain  filling  these  pages  with  matter  of 
little  interest  to  the  general  reader.  I  must,  however, 
give  those  who  may  entertain  a  lurking  desire  to  visit 
the  Rockies  some  little  clue  to  my  wanderings.  In  the 
Appendix  I  have  embodied  a  brief  outline  of  the  country 
and  of  its  history  in  the  way  of  previous  explorations ; 
here  I  will  only  say  that  the  district  in  question,  taken 
as  a  whole,  has  been  tracked  by  three  Government  explor- 
ing expeditions  on  the  Western,  Northern,  and  South- 
Eastern  extremities.  Many  portions  visited  by  us  were, 
so  far  as  the  information  of  leading  authorities  goes,  never 
before  visited  by  a  party  of  white  men.  Until  quite  recently 
(1879)  the  country  was  most  unsafe  for  small  expeditions; 
and  I  am  not  aware  that  any  shooting-party  had  ever,  up  to 
1880,  penetrated  into  the  recesses  of  the  Sierra  Soshon^,  or 
visited  the  "Western  slopes  of  the  Wind  River  chain  between 
Togwotee  Pass  and  the  head- waters  of  the  Dinwiddy.  The 
occasional  trappers  who  had  been  there  before  us  did  so 
by  turning  squawmen,  i.e.  marrying  Indian  wives,  and 
by  turning  Indians  themselves  had  thus  been  able  to 
intrude  into  those  pleasant  liunting-grounda. 


52  Camps  in  i/ie  Rockies* 


CHAPTER  IIL 

LIFE  IN  CAMP. 

Camp  incidents — Appearance  of  camp — Baking — Good  appetites- 
Charms  of  free  travel — Lake  scenery — Naming  camp — Nature  ol 
camps — Return  to  camp  at  night — Camp  homes. 

I  HAVE  purposely  delayed  speaking  of  our  every-day  life 
till  we  had  reached  the  hunting  and  trapping  grounds ; 
to  get  at  which,  as  the  reader  has  heard,  we  had  to  pass 
tlirough  a  series  of  little  trials  and  petty  hardships,  sorely 
trying  our  mental  and  physical  tempers. 

Now  everything  is  again  bright  and  pleasant ;  and,  if 
not  exactly  couleur  de  rose,  the  vast  stretches  of  blue-green 
pines  and  silvery-trunked  spruce  through  which  we  are 
constantly  travelling,  and  the  beautiful  emerald-green 
'*  beaver-meadows  *'  we  frequently  traverse,  present  more 
gratefully  nature-like  tints  to  eyes  scorched  by  the  glare 
of  the  verdureless  Plains  ;  while  the  magic  air  of  timber- 
line  regions  exercises  its  rejuvenating  powers  on  lungs 
that  for  weeks  have  breathed  the  alkaline  dust  of  the 
same  desert-like  expanses.  The  camp  fireside  is  again 
the  meeting-place  of  cheerful  faces  and  unbounded  spirits ; 
while  the  best  of  sport,  amid  grand  Alpine  scenery,  gives 
keen  zest  to  our  every-day  lives,  and  provides  a  never- 
failing  fund  for  anecdote  and  chaff. 


Life  in  Ca^np.  5J 

There  is  a  peculiar  charm  in  the  independent  mode  of 
erapper  voyaging.  Entirely  emancipated  from  the  rest  of 
mankind,  unrestrained  by  the  fetters  and  by  the  exigent 
demands  of  civilization,  you  roam  about  as  free  as  the 
deer  you  constantly  startle  from  their  covert.  You  pitch 
camp,  or  scoop  out  a  primitive  *'dug  out,"  with  the 
enfranchised  liberty  of  the  beaver.  The  great  unknown 
lies  before  you  ;  and,  none  but  a  character  blunted  to  all 
natural  feeling  could  fail  to  experience  the  pleasant, 
though  sadly  travestied,  flush  of  the  embryo  "  Weltent- 
decker,'*  adding  a  subtle  charm  to  pursuits  dear  to  the 
sportsman's  and  to  the  naturalist's  heart. 

The  next  best  every-day  scene  of  our  travels  will  convey 
the  pleasant  freedom  that  marks  the  life  of  our  party. 

*'  Boreas,  the  doggarned  old  hoss,  has,  after  all,  a  better 
nose  than  any  of  us  for  finding  a  camping- pi  ace,'*  re- 
marks Port,  one  September  evening,  as,  riding  at  the 
head  of  our  little  pack-train,  through  a  glade  traversing 
a  grand  old  forest,  he  comes  up  to  where  I  am  sitting  on 
a  fallen  pine,  awaiting  the  party.  And  it  is  not  an  idle 
compliment  either ;  for  truly  the  old  horse  seems  always 
to  sniff  a  good  camping-place  from  afar.  As  usual,  I  have 
taken  an  evening  stalk  on  foot  through  the  twilight  forest, 
not  80  much  for  sporting  purposes  as  to  stretch  my  legs 
after  a  long  day's  ride,  and  also  to  examine  the  ground 
for  tracks  of  wapiti  and  moose. 

Boreas  has,  as  on  all  such  occasions,  the  reins  thrown 
over  his  neck,  fastened  to  a  spring  buckle  cunningly  con- 
cealed behind  the  horn  of  the  Mexican  saddle,  and  after 
receiving  a  slap  or  a  mild  kick,  as  a  signal  that  he  is  not 
wanted  and  need  not  wait  for  me,  ambles  off  alone  after 
the  pack-train,  strolling  ahead  of  it,  till  he  finds  an  espe- 


54  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

cially  inviting  bit  of  grass,  upon  whicli  he  will  feast  till 
his  companions  get  half  a  mile  or  so  ahead,  when  he  will 
repeat  his  tactics.  The  sun  is  down,  and  both  horses 
and  men  are  on  the  look-out  for  camp.  A  loud  neigh — 
'^  nicker  "  the  trapper  calls  it — from  Boreas,  and  an 
answering  one  from  his  favourite  mare,  causes  the  above 
remark.  Looking  round,  we  discover  the  equine  camp- 
finder  standing  200  yards  off,  with  head  outstretched  in 
the  middle  of  a  most  inviting  little  clearing,  evincing 
in  his  pose,  as  plainly  as  had  he  spoken  :  "  This  is 
the  boss  camping-place  for  us."  As  yet  we  can  see 
no  water — that  most  essential  element  in  choosing  the 
camp  site ;  but  so  convinced  are  we  of  my  favourite's 
sagacity,  that  the  train  is  immediately  swung  to  the  side, 
and  very  soon  we  catch  sight  of  a  clear  little  brook,  half 
hidden  under  tall  rye-grass  and  the  drooping  branches  of 
stately  spruce-pines.  Ten  minutes  later  the  grass  is  littered 
with  the  packs :  here  a  heavy  load  of  three  sacks  of  flour, 
there  the  elk-hide  side-panniers,  containing  the  "  dry " 
stores,  i.e.  those  most  to  be  protected  against  water  when 
fording  and  swimming  the  larger  creeks  and  rivers; 
yonder  the  powder-keg  and  sundry  big  bales  of  furs, 
interspersed  by  '^  bunches ''  of  steel  traps.  On  a  pile  of 
pack-saddles  lie  our  four  rifles,  while  sundry  saddle-bags, 
buffalo-coats,  and  carelessly  flung-down  Colts  are  strewing 
the  ground  all  round.  The  horses,  just  suflBciently  tired 
by  their  day's  work  to  thoroughly  enjoy  a  good  roll,  and 
not  stand  about,  as  often,  poor  beasts,  they  do,  with 
drooping  heads  and  pinched  flanks,  too  tired  to  feed,  are 
relishing  that  pleasure  to  the  fullest,  while  the  example 
of  the  two  colts— general  pets  of  the  camp — racing  each 
other  round  and  round,  cutting  the  most  amusing  capers. 


Life  in  Camp.  55 

and  nickering  with  wild  delight,  is  followed  by  out  two 
canine  camp-followers,  playing  their  doggish  game  of 
hide-and-seek  with  all  the  vivacity  of  youth  and  vigour. 

It  is  the  beau-ideal  of  a  trapper's  or  hunter's  camp, 
guarded  by  the  great  peak  that  overshadows  the  pic- 
turesque glade.  The  grass  in  rich  plenty,  reaching  up  to  the 
knees  of  the  horses,  is  green ;  not  the  tint  of  our  pastures 
at  home,  but  a  green  that  matches  the  silvery  trunks  of 
the  stately  pines  and  the  blue-green  of  their  boughs, 
sweeping  in  languid  curve  the  tall  rye- grass  at  their  feet. 
The  smoke  of  the  camp-fire,  pleasantly  perfumed  by  the 
cedarwood  which  produces  it,  rises  in  blue  circles,  higher 
and  higher  as  the  blaze  increases,  till  at  last  it  blends 
with  the  Alpine  blue  of  the  sky.  The  clear  brook, 
traversing  the  glade  sounds  an  irresistible  invitation  to 
enjoy  a  dip. 

Let  us  look  round.  How  content,  how  pleasant  and 
pleased,  everything  looks  !  For  a  moment  we  wish  we 
could  roll  in  the  green  fragrant  mountain-grass  as  do  the 
horses  and  the  dogs.  Happy  carelessness  of  what  the 
past  has  brought  and  what  the  future  may  bring — of  the 
long  weary  rides  through  desolate  parched  deserts  ;  of 
dreary  **  dry  camps ;"  of  swollen  rivers  swum  by  shrink- 
ing animals ;  of  the  deep  snow,  that  presently  will  cover 
the  mountain-side ;  of  cold  and  hunger — blissful  ignorance 
and  forgetfulness  are  stamped  on  human,  equine,  and 
canine  physiognomy,  as  each  member,  in  his  manner  and 
way,  is  enjoying  to  the  full  the  present. 

Here,  dotting  the  quiet  peaceful  glade  before  us,  is 
animal  life,  the  impulsive  joyous  spirit  of  healthful  vigour, 
fanned  to  keen  freshness  by  the  cool  bracing  breeze 
straight  down  from  the  snow-fields.     There,  right  round 


56  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

us,  wrapped  in  solemn  stillness  and  majesty,  life  of  anothei 
kind — that  of  Nature  as  she  was  created,  as  yet  undefiled 
by  the  desecrating  hand  of  man. 

But  duty  cuts  short  these  musings  ;  for  in  an  "  outfit  ** 
composed  of  the  elements,  and  based  on  the  simple 
principles  of  trapper  fashion,  as  ours  is,  there  is  always 
plenty  to  do.  A  long  day's  ride  has  made  us  all  hungry 
as  Indians ;  so  if  we  are  to  begin  at  the  beginning,  that 
very  beginning  is  the  supper. 

The  fire  brought  to  proper  cooking  proportions — i.e» 
the  coals  raked  to  the  front  for  baking,  and  the  logs  so 
arranged  that  pots  and  pans  preserve  their  equilibrium — 
we  all  go  to  work.  One  man  bakes ;  but  that  man  is  not 
I,  for  I  was  found  wanting,  since  on  one  of  my  first 
attempts  to  do  so,  one  cold  drizzly  night  on  a  previous 
expedition  I  had  to  bake  in  the  dark,  and  my  pipe — an 
otherwise  inseparable  companion— was  subsequently  found 
in  the  loaf.  Baking  is  altogether  a  very  hateful  occupa- 
tion. Your  face  gets  scorched,  your  knees  get  sooty,  your 
fingers  blistered,  and  it  taxes  not  only  your  patience,  but 
also  your  vocabulary  of  "  Government  talk/*  On  cold 
days  in  winter  you  have  got  to  wash  your  hands  in  a 
mush  of  water  and  ice ;  for  hunger  is  a  mighty  impatient 
master,  and  there  is  no  time  to  heat  water  in  the  camp 
kettle.  The  flour-sack  is  sure  to  be  at  the  very  bottom  of 
the  pack-sack,  and  the  baking-powder,  or  "  saleratus  *' 
(the  grandest  word  in  the  trapper's  very  abridged 
dictionary),  cannot  be  found,  or  when  it  is  found  every- 
thing around  it  in  the  pack  bears  the  marks  of  your 
mealy  fingers  ;  for  naturally,  in  the  manner  of  man,  you 
have  first  mixed  the  flour,  and  then  only  look  about  you 
for  "  that  yar  white  powder  as  makes  bread  git  up  and 


Life  in  Camp,  57 

hump  ittelf,"  as  an  old  trapper  called  it.  But  it  is  only 
in  *'  real  mean  *'  weather,  when  the  snow  or  frozen  sleet 
beats  down  upon  your  devoted  head,  unprotected  by  tent 
or  other  shelter — for  our  outfit  was  singularly  bare  of  your 
luxurious  camp  paraphernalia  of  Nimrods  who  travel  in 
the  Adirondacks  with  tent,  camp-stools,  and  camp-bed — 
and  the  wind,  a  genuine  No.  12  gale,  whirling  your  flour 
from  the  pan,  that  you  realize  what  baking  really  is. 
Then,  probably,  the  giggling  wretches  who  do  not  bake 
will  hear  some  choice  and  not  unfamiliar  quotations, 
while  their  **  Hurry  up  V*  will  set  at  defiance  that  good 
old  trapper's  proverb,  "  To  make  haste  slowly,  pans  the 
best."  It  is  always  a  comical  sight  to  see  big  strapping 
fellows,  their  six-shooters  at  their  waist,  metamorphosed 
into  cooks  :  their  horny  hands,  but  ill  fit  to  handle  pots 
and  pans,  their  awkward  touch,  their  heavy  tramp,  and 
withal  their  clumsy  way  of  setting  about  things, — one  and 
all  combine  to  make  a  cowboy  or  trapper-cook  a  ludicrous 
sight.  But  more  than  comical  it  is  to  watch,  on  a  fierce 
winter's  night,  a  big  hulking  giant,  wrapped  in  a  buffalo- 
coat,  make  his  preparation  for  baking,  while  a  snow-hurri- 
cane is  blowing,  and  damp  wood  is  on  the  fire.  With  his 
back  to  the  wind,  the  pan  in  which  the  flour  is  mixed — in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten  the  gold  pan,  in  which  at  odd  times 
he  washes  for  that  precious  metal — carefully  held  inside 
his  coat,  as  a  loving  mother  would  fondle  her  babe  ; 
between  his  teeth  the  tin  cup  full  of  water,  from  which, 
by  a  dexterous  jerk  of  the  head,  he  spills  into  the  pan  the 
requisite  amount  of  the  liquid ;  between  his  knees  the 
flour-sack,  and  tucked  under  his  arm  the  saleratus  tin : 
thus  the  shaggy  monster  bakes  I 

Practice  alone  can  make  you  an  adept  at  it,  as  I  found 


58  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

out  on  a  certain  terrible  December  night,  when  Indians, 
as  we  thought,  had  stampeded  our  horses,  the  men  having 
set  out  in  pursuit,  while  I,  being  temporarily  disabled  by 
a  thrust  of  a  dying  elk,  was  to  guard  camp  and — bake. 
The  gale  howled,  and  turn  wherever  I  would  the  snow 
beat  with  fierce  violence  against  my  face.  Hundreds  of 
times  had  I  watched  the  men  mix  the  flour  under  precisely 
similar  circumstances ;  and  were  not  my  teeth  as  able  as 
theirs  to  hold  the  tin  cup  of  water,  and  was  not  my  buffalo- 
coat  as  windproof  as  that  of  the  trapper's  ?  All  very  true ; 
but  yet  my  first  attempt  to  clinch  the  ice-coated  metal  be- 
tween my  teeth  resulted  in  a  cold  bath  for  my  knees,  while 
the  second  trial  succeeded  in  so  far  as  the  holding  was 
concerned.  I  could  grasp  the  cup  as  long  you  liked, 
but,  to  save  my  life,  I  could  not  give  that  dexterous  jerk 
necessary  to  spill  some  of  the  water  into  the  pan,  where 
the  flour  was  in  the  meanwhile,  notwithstanding  the  wind- 
proof  quality  of  my  coat,  whirling  about  in  utter  disregard 
of  my  clothes.  My  bulldog  grip  continued,  and  at  last  I 
summoned  up  courage  to  give  that  fatal  jerk.  It  is 
needless  to  say  that  the  whole  contents  was  landed  in  my 
face,  where  it  very  soon  turned  into  a  thin  layer  of  ice,  not 
increasing  my  good  humour.  Water  was  plentiful,  so  the 
cup  was  refilled ;  and,  as  I  was  determined  to  succeed,  a 
second  attempt  at  jerking  was  made.  This  time  it  was 
somewhat  nearer  the  mark ;  for  the  liquid  went  down  my 
neck  only.  That  suicidal  "  reback  action  "  of  the  water, 
as  the  men  called  it,  was  difficult  to  overcome.  It  would 
go  back,  instead  of  forward,  be  the  jerk  ever  so  gently  and 
nicely  adjusted.  By  the  time  my  perseverance  did  succeed 
there  was  no  flour  left  in  the  pan  to  mix,  and  the  saleratus 
tin  had  rolled  off,  ^*  running  down  the  slope  before  a  stiff 
breeze."     When  the  men  finally  returned,  I  was  no  little 


Life  in  Camp,  59 

proud  of  my  two  loaves,  but  less  so  of  my  flour-bedraggled 
appearance,  leading  the  men  to  more  than  suspect  "  what 
a  job  it  was  to  bake  !" 

No  wonder,  the  reader  will  say,  when  I  tell  him  that 
grumbling  on  the  score  of  bread  was  not  infrequent.  It 
was  either  too  salt,  or  too  doughy,  or  too  crisp,  or  too 
much  saleratus  in  it,  or  burnt  to  a  cinder,  which  latter,  as 
we  had  only  a  frying-pan  to  bake  in,  and  the  fire  generally 
of  huge  dimensions,  would  occur,  notwithstanding  the  best 
intentions.  It  was,  therefore,  agreed  among  the  men,  that 
the  first  who  should  grumble  was  to  relieve  the  then  baker. 
Two  or  three  days  afterwards,  when  we  had  only  a  very 
miserable  camp-fire,  the  bread  was  a  mass  of  dough  inside. 
The  boy  was  the  first  to  forget  the  penalty  for  grumbling. 
Taking  a  hearty  bite  at  the  bread,  he  exclaimed,  '*  Doggarn 
this  bread  I  I'll  be  darned  if  it  ain't  a  mass  of — "  Then 
the  paste  gummed  up  his  mouth ;  but  recollecting  at  the 
same  instant  in  what  danger  he  was,  he  blurted  out,  half 
choked  by  the  dough,  "  but  I  like  it.^' 

This  time  his  quick  wits  had  saved  him  ;  but  he  fell 
victim  a  day  or  two  later,  when,  taking  up  a  loaf  just  from 
the  frying-pan,  he  dropped  it  as  quickly,  saying,  "Cuss 
that  hot  bread  I"  The  vox  populi  of  the  camp  declared 
that  "  hot  **  was  sufficient  to  convict,  so  he  had  to  take 
the  baker's  place. 

While  the  boy  fetched  the  water,  ground  the  coffee  in  a 
tin  cup  with  the  muzzle  of  his  six-shooter — our  coffee-mill 
having  come  to  an  early  grave  at  the  heels  of  the  **  kitchen 
mule,*'  the  others  occupied  themselves  with  the  meat  and 
bread.  There  were  three  frying-pans  in  the  outfit :  one,  a 
very  big  one,  was  for  the  bighorn  haunch  or  black-tail 
tender  loin-steak  ;  the  other  for  the  bread ;  while  the  third 
and  smallest  one  fell  to  my  lot.     In  it  I  fried,  broiled^ 


6o  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

stewed,  or  boiled  such  odds  and  ends  as  struck  my  fancy 
Beaver  tail  and  bear  liver  were  general  favourites,  not  so 
elk  brain  or  kidney.  Cooking  these  little  tidbits  of  camp- 
fare  reminds  me  always  of  that  most  delightful  occupation 
of  the  juvenile  mind,  making  mud-pasties  on  the  sands  by 
the  sea.  Let  the  liver  be  a  blotched  mass  of  half-cooked 
gore,  or  the  brain  a  jelly-like  mass,  or  the  kidney  cinder 
on  the  outside  and  raw  inside,  yet  you  find  it  nice,  and  are 
happy.  These  latter  delicacies  the  men  never  touched ; 
for  trappers  are  very  fastidious  in  the  choice  of  their  meat, 
and  I  believe  they  thought  me  next  to  a  barbarian  for 
gourmandising  on  kidneys,  which  they  consider  '*  unclean, 
and  not  fit  for  a  dog." 

Once  I  inveigled  a  stranger  to  taste  my  favourite  stew ; 
but  I  am  sorry  to  say  it  was  not  favourably  received. 
"  By  the  jumping  Moses,  you've  been  and  gone  done  it  I  " 
he  cried  out.  And  when  I  asked  him  what  I  had  gone  and 
done,  he  replied,  **  Why,  pisoned  me,  man,  like  a  cayote." 
The  fellow  was  a  Hoosier  (native  of  Indiana),  and  his 
language  was  the  strangest  mixture  of  Pennsylvania  Dutch 
and  Kentucky  negroisms,  and  a  liberal  infusion  of  ''  we 
uns  '*  and  '*  you  uns,''  and  "  gone  done  it  '^  and  '*  gwine  to 
gone  done  it,"  I  ever  heard. 

Cooking  did  not  take  long,  and  the  ''  All  set !  '*  was  a 
welcome  signal  to  repair  to  our  festive  board.  The  water- 
proof sheet  spread  on  the  ground  near  the  fire  where  the 
smoke  was  least  troublesome ;  four  tin  plates,  and  as  many 
cups  and  knives  and  forks,  do  not  take  long  to  lay, 
especially  if  they  are  tumbled  out  of  their  usual  receptacle 
in  a  heap,  every  man  "  grabbing  a  root,"  %,e.  helping 
himself  to  his  own. 

What  a  glorious  thing  a  good,   healthy   appetite  is  I 


Life  in  Camp,  6i 

Indeed  ours  was  bo  glorious,  that  before  leaving  Iron  tier- 
land  and  entering  the  wilds  we  were  well  known  for  it,  I  am 
ashamed  to  say,  at  all  the  camps,  ranches,  and  hunters' 
camps  where  we  had  partaken  of  hospitality.  At  one 
place  the  "  boss,'*  after  watching  in  sUence  our  attacks  on 
the  grub  pile,  remarked  very  good-humouredly,  '*  Wa'al, 
boys,  FU  be  doggarned  if  I  won't  back  you  at  grub-lifting 

against  any  other  outfit  in  this  yar  country.     By  G 

I  will,  if  it  takes  my  bottom  dollar  and  cleans  me  out  to 
bed-rock/'  At  one  *' road  ranche" — a  roadside  inn, 
where  you  have  to  pay  for  your  meals  at  a  fixed  rate — which 
I  passed  on  my  return  to  civilization,  and  where  I  struck 
the  first  potatoes  after  having  gone  five  months  without 
vegetables  of  any  shape,  the  fellow  who  **  ran  "  the  house, 
after  seeing  me  "  through  "  my  meal,  asked  me  if  I  was 
thinking  of  returning  to  "these  yer  diggings/*  On  my 
answering  him,  and  innocently  asking  why  he  wanted  to 
know,  he  said,  "  Wall,  you  see,  stranger,  times  ain*t  been 
way  up  hereabouts,  and  our  p'tater-patch  yonder  ain't  as 
big  as  a  county  ;  but  if  you  take  back-tracks,  Pd  have  to 
make  it  about  that  squar*,  sure.*' 

The  very  next  day  (I  was  travelling  in  the  mail-sleigh 
from  a  remote  fort  to  the  next  little  town,  160  miles  off), 
luck  would  have  it  that,  at  a  similar  log-hovel  hostelry,  I 
struck  butter,  the  first  I  had  tasted  for  nearly  half  a  year.  I 
was  hungry,  and  the  butter  looked  fresh,  and  little  besides 
bread  on  the  table.  A  woman  **  ran  **  the  house,  a  sour- 
looking  Rocky  Mountain  "  lady,"  whose  life,  to  judge  by 
her  grim  humour,  must  have  consisted  of  one  series  of 
reverses,  her  birth  being  one  of  them.  During  my  meal 
she  sat  opposite  to  me.  She  had  not  spoken  a  word,  for 
on   my  entrance   she  only  pointed  to  the   table  in  the 


62  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

taciturn  "Western  way ;  and  moreover  there  was  not  time 
for  gossip,  as  the  mail-driver  was  in  a  hurry  to  finish  his 
day's  drive,  with  the  thermometer  down  to  —35°  Fahr. 
My  meal  over,  I  threw  the  customary  fifty -cent  piece  on 
the  table,  and  was  about  to  hurry  out,  when  she  spoke 
up : — *'  Stranger,  you  ain't  got  no  mother-in-law,  that's 
eartin.  Hadn't  my  cow  just  calved,  I  would  donate  you 
them  ar*  four  bits ''  (fifty  cents)  "  to  buy  yourself  one. 
You  kinder  want  one  to  teach  you  what  four  bits'  worth 
of  butter  hefts  "  (weighs). 

But  I  am  rambling  away  from  our  trapper-camp.  Supper 
over,  the  work  of  the  evening  began.  First  of  all  the 
stock  wanted  looking  after.  If  it  were  an  Indian  country 
— the  case  most  of  the  time — three  or  four  of  the  horses  had 
to  be  picketed  or  hobbled ;  but  before  doing  that,  it  was 
necessary  to  let  them  feed.  Probably  they  had  wandered 
off  a  mile  or  so  while  we  were  at  supper,  and  hence  it  took 
the  man  whose  turn  it  was  to  attend  to  them  the  best  part 
of  the  evening  to  get  them  back  into  the  next  neighbour- 
hood of  the  camp,  pick  a  good  patch  of  grass,  water  them, 
and  secure  those  whose  turn  it  was.  The  others  looked 
to  the  washing  up  and  "  straightening  out "  of  things 
generally.  I  fancy  many  a  good  and  true  man's  lips  will 
curl  with  disdain  as  he  reads  that  rifles  have  to  be  cleaned, 
cartridges  require  loading,  clothes  need  patching  with 
sailor's  needle  and  buckstring  thread,  horses  have  to  be 
shod,  coffee  browned,  gaping  holes  in  boots  and  moccasins 
want  the  awl  and  last,  straps  and  pack-harness  require 
splicing,  the  pack-sacks  cry  out  for  patches,  and  pack* 
saddles  for  odd  screws,  and  no  end  of  other  suchlike 
pleasant  and  unpleasant  pastimes,  not  to  mention  our 
groom's  duties  of  saddling  our  horses  and  taking  them 


Life  in  Camp,  63 

to  water  when  they  are  thirsty.  But,  then,  reader,  you 
and  I,  I  hope,  always  comfort  ourselves  with  the  know- 
ledge that  the  guns,  the  boots,  and  the  horses  are  our  own, 
while  the  lips  that  scoff  at  these  menial  occupations  are 
not.  Everything  that  fell  to  my  share  accomplished,  my 
pocket-book  with  my  daily  notes  had  its  turn.  Often  an 
hour  or  two  was  spent  in  jotting  down,  in  a  scrawling  hand 
— the  powder-keg  between  my  knees  serving  as  table — 
some  very  inspired  thoughts  that  could  not  wait  When,  at 
very  rare  intervals,  a  chance  was  looming  up  of  sending  by 
Indians  letters  to  the  next  frontier  fort,  often  150  or  200 
miles  off,  the  evening  was  devoted  to  epistolary  duties ;  the 
result  of  such  hours,  in  the  shape  of  letters,  being  pinned 
to  the  inside  of  some  morose  old  buck's  blanket,  or  nailed 
to  the  board  on  which  the  papoose  was  strapped,  the 
latter  being  of  the  two  the  surest  way.  Later  on  in  the 
season,  when  winter  storms  and  intense  frosts  were  in 
regular  attendance,  writing  became  a  more  embarrassing 
undertaking,  till  finally  it  had  to  be  abandoned  altogether. 
"  Going  to  bed ''  is  a  very  simple  affair.  Boots  or 
moccasins  are  taken  off,  and  carefully  covered  by  the  robe 
you  lie  on,  for  they  must  not  be  exposed  to  the  frosty 
air,  or  they  will  freeze  hard,  in  which  case  you  will  in  the 
morning  hear  some  unchristianlike  conversation.  This  is 
about  all  you  take  off;  what  extra  clothing  in  the  shape 
of  a  knit  jersey,  or  even  buffalo-coat,  you  put  on,  depends 
upon  the  temperature.  Your  pockets  are  emptied,  and  their 
contents  placed  in  your  hat,  alongside  the  six-shooter, 
underneath  your  pillow,  which  probably  will  be  the  saddle ; 
while  the  rifle  is  equally  carefully  laid  alongside  the  boots, 
flo  as  to  be  handy,  and  perfectly  protected  against  rain  or 
fxiow.     Trapper-beds  are  snug  and  warm,  and  as  simple 


64  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

as  the  toilette  of  the  occupants.  A  bearskin  or  two,  with 
a  blanket,  if  you  have  one,  under  you,  and  two  robes  as 
cover,  with  a  large  sheet  of  waterproof  tarpaulin,  to  turn 
rain  and  snow,  spread  over  the  whole,  is  all  that  is  wanted.* 
If  you  pitch  camp  while  it  is  yet  light,  a  "  soft "  spot  for 
your  roost  can  be  looked  up,  though  generally  the  dis- 
covered softness  will  be  more  illusionary  than  real,  and 
such  being  the  case,  old  mountaineers  usually  do  not 
trouble  themselves  about  it.  After  dark  the  less  you 
bother  about  stones  or  projecting  rocks  under  your  bed 
the  wiser  you  are.  Remove  those  that  are  loose,  and  as 
you  "  twist  to  fit  the  bumps  "  regard  those  that  are  not 
loose  with  the  supreme  contempt  the  sound  sleep  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains  will  enable  you  to  manifest. 

Two  things  are  of  importance  anent  making  beds.  The 
first  is  to  lie  with  your  feet  towards  the  direction  from 
whence  the  wind  blows,  for  if  you  do  not  observe  this  pre- 
caution you  will  risk  having  your  cover  and  blankets  lifted 
bodily  off  you  by  a  sudden  gust.  Secondly,  choose  as  level 
a  spot  as  you  can,  for  if  the  plane  of  your  bed  slopes  ever  so 
slightly  to  one  side  you  will  surely  roll  out  of  your  warm 
nest  in  the  night,  and  if  you  lie  with  your  legs  downwards 
you  will  in  the  morning  find  yourself  *'  'way  down,"  where 
when  you  went  to  sleep  you  left  your  feet. 

Avoid,  if  you  possibly  can,  to  sleep  with  another  man; 
sacrifice  rather  a  blanket  or  a  robe  than  risk  passing  an 
uncomfortable  night  at  the  side  of  a  restless  sleeper.  Of 
course  there  are  cases  where,  if  you  find  yourself  in  a 
strange  camp  without  your  own  bedding,  you  will  have 
to  share  beds.  On  one  of  my  previous  trips  I  once  was 
witness  of  a  ludicrous  scene  in  the  way  of  bedfellow  trou- 
*  See  Appendix. 


Life  in  Camp.  65 

bles.  It  was  in  a  stockman's  camp,  whicli  I  readied  late  in 
the  evening,  my  horse  being  too  worn  out  to  take  me  the 
remaining  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  to  my  own  fireside.  The 
boys,  in  the  hospitable  way  peculiar  to  them,  let  me 
have  a  "  bed  *'  to  myself,  while  two  of  them  shared.  I  had 
not  got  fairly  to  sleep  when  I  was  roused  by  some  angry 
and  not  very  select  biblical  quotations.  The  trouble  was 
in  the  double  bed  next  to  mine  ;  and  presently  the  cause 
was  developed.  It  seems  that  one  of  the  men,  knowing 
the  other  to  be  a  restless  sleeper,  addicted  to  violent  kick- 
ing, had  buckled  his  big  Spanish  spurs  with  two-inch  rowels 
to  his  stockinged  feet.  Against  these  his  restless  bedmate 
had  come  to  grief ;  and  the  other  man's  dry,  "  Wa*al,  I 
reckoned  you  would  hurt  yourself,'*  raised  a  titter  all 
round. 

Another  little  anecdote  of  a  "Western  Judge  and  an 
Irish  navvy  sharing  beds  is  worth  telling.  The  former 
addressing  himself,  self-importantly,  to  his  humbler  com- 
panion asked  whether  he  had  ever  slept  in  the  old  country 
with  a  judge  ?  To  which  Pat  responded :  "  No,  sure  that 
I  havn't ;  but  sure,  ye  mightn't  have  been  a  judge  in  the 
ould  countree." 

The  camp,  if  a  stay  of  a  day  or  two  is  intended, 
rapidly  acquires  a  homelike  look.  Long  six-inch  nails, 
careiuUy  removed  on  leaving,  are  driven  an  inch  or  two 
into  the  trunks  of  the  trees  that  surround  our  quarters. 
On  them  are  hung  up  the  various  articles  that  otherwise 
would  be  lying  about  in  primitive  disorder.  One  trunk  is 
the  larder  tree,  on  the  next  are  hung  all  the  traps,  the 
third  is  a  sort  of  general  wardrobe,  while  the  fourth  has 
my  stout  leather  "  hold-all "  slung  up.  What  a  wealth 
of  recollections    does  not   that  ''hold-all"  conjure  up  I 


66  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

Called  by  the  men  the  "  boss's  Saratoga  trunk,"  it  baa 
undergone  on  its  three  expeditions  a  wonderful  amount 
of  roughing.  The  receptacle  of  the  most  heterogeneous 
knick-knacks,  it  can,  if  ever  a  trunklike  receptacle  could, 
tell  fabulous  tales  of  travel.  When  only  half  filled — 
nearly  cut  in  twain  by  the  strangling  pack-ropes,  pulled 
across  the  saddle  as  taught  as  Port's  or  Edd's  strength 
would  let  them.  When  full — squashed  a  dozen  times  a  day 
out  of  all  pristine  shape  and  contour  between  handy  trees 
standing  close  together,  and  past  which  the  horse  or  mule 
carrying  it,  with  the  peculiar  obstinacy  of  all  pack  animals, 
would  force  a  passage.  Soused  by  frequent  immersions  into 
rivers  and  creeks ;  now  rolling  down  steep  slopes,  with 
the  brute  to  whose  back  it  is  roped  using  it  as  buffer,  and 
finally,  after  cannoning  against  rocks  and  trees,  when  he 
is  brought  up  at  the  bottom  with  a  dull  thud  that  jars  your 
tenderest  chords.  Disappearing  in  the  distance,  dragging 
and  bumping  along  the  ground,  for  it  is  still  attached  by 
the  rope  to  the  stampeded  horse,  who,  after  "  lighting  into 
bucking,"  has  partially  rid  himself  of  his  burden,  and 
is  now  showing  the  country  to  my  invaluables.  To  see  a 
horse  go  head  over  heels  down  a  precipitous  bank,  and  land 
at  the  bottom  either  "ended  up,"  as  the  trapper  calls  a  posi- 
tion of  wholly  disturbed  equilibrium,  or  see  the  waters  of  a 
rapid-flowing  mountain  torrent  closing  over  his  head,  is 
very  funny,  for  you  have  long  come  to  the  conviction  that 
nothing  short  of  absolute  instantaneous  annihilation  can 
hurt  or  harm  a  pack-horse.  But  your  smile  is  apt  to  change 
into  a  look  of  agonized  fear  if  the  loud  laughing  shouts  of 
the  men  inform  you  that,  not  sacks  of  flour  or  packs  of  skins, 
which  you  at  first  imagined  to  be  on  that  very  horse,  are 
its  burden,  but  the  devoted  "  hold-all/*  for  ever  being  sat 


Life  in  Camp.  67 

on,  ducked,  kicked,  dragged,  scraped,  hoisted,  flung  about, 
and  otherwise  maltreated.  Like  a  flash  of  lightning  the 
contents  of  the  hapless  bag  are  passed  in  review.  The 
stockings  and  flannel  garments  cannot  be  damaged  ;  the 
reloading  tools  of  the  rifle  are  all  of  iron,  and  have  been 
ducked  many  a  time  without  harm.  Boots,  the  three  or 
four  small  books,  the  store  of  tobacco,  a  tin  case  with 
fuzees  and  matches,  a  similar  receptacle  for  the  entire 
store  of  the  men's  strychnine,  which,  to  prevent  accidents, 
I  have  taken  charge  of — for  hitherto  it  was  usually  *' packed 
along  "  in  uncomfortable  proximity  to  our  flour  and  sugar, 
— the  stout  waterproof  writing-portfolio,  with  sheet-tin 
sides,  some  extra  pipes,  knives,  &c.  One  and  all  are  by 
their  nature,  or  by  that  of  their  covering,  not  liable  to 
be  damaged,  were  the  "hold-all"  to  be  thrown  from 
a  church  steeple,  or  to  be  engulfed  in  the  Niagara.  But 
what  of  that  little  bottle  of  cayenne  powder — the  only 
bottle-like  breakable  in  the  outfit — which  I  received  as  a 
present  at  the  Fort  P  Broken  to  tiny  splinters  in  a  bump- 
ing race,  the  contents  have  been  nicely  distributed  through 
the  whole  sack ;  and  when  opened  it  made  us  all  cry  a 
yard  0%  and  what  is  more,  continued  to  make  us  cry  and 
sneeze  by  fits  and  starts  for  the  next  month.  But  every- 
thing has  its  bad  and  also  good  sides;  even  that  cayenne 
powder  had  redeeming  points,  for  it  accomplished  what 
nothing  else  seemed  capable  of  performing,  namely,  it 
cured  a  mischievous  young  Newfoundland  dog  of  a  per- 
plexing trick  of  carrying  off  personal  property,  to  play 
with  in  private.  All  kinds  of  things  had  thus  been  lost 
— socks,  handkerchiefs,  winter  gloves,  and  other  articles 
of  our  simple  toilette.  With  playful  bound,  the  young 
thief   espied   that    evening    an    innocent-looking   glove 

F  2 


68  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

lying  on  the  ground  near  camp,  and  with  the  nsual 
canine  gambols  it  was  tossed  up— '  only  once,  mind  you,  for 
the  next  instant  that  dog  was  weeping  over  his  sins.  On 
the  whole,  it  would  be  hard  to  say  who  cried  more,  we 
from  laughter  or  the  pup  from  cayenne.  He  never 
touched  gloves  again. 

Or,  to  give  another  instance  of  suchlike  mishaps,  what 
of  that  single  paper  of  "  paint,"  ^  which,  after  my  last  at- 
tempt at  trading  with  a  morose  old  Arrappahoe  Indian,  I  had 
forgotten  to  restore  to  its  proper  water-tight  receptacle  of 
sheet-tin,  and  left  knocking  about  the  ''  hold  all,"  perfectly 
unprotected  against  the  unforeseen  sousing  the  mal-inten- 
tioned  Old  John  had  in  store  for  it !  We  all  laughed  at 
his  frantic  efforts  to  get  out  of  the  whirlpool  into  which 
his  own  obstinacy  had  driven  him.  But  I  for  one  no 
longer  laughed  when,  by  a  final  vigorous  leap,  the  horse 
gained  dry  ground,  and  the  water  that  had  inundated  the 
**  hold-all  "  trickled  forth  a  bright  vermilion-hued  liquid. 
I  never  knew  a  thimbleful  of  colour  dye  so  much ;  and  no 
doubt  the  family  of  beavers,  in  whose  pool  a  day  or  two 
afterwards  I  did  my  washing,  must  have  thought  the 
same. 

We  were  in  the  habit  of  giving  every  camp  where  wo 
stayed  more  than  one  night,  and  even  many  so-called 
twelve-hour  camps,  a  distinctive  name.     For  not  only  is 

*  One  of  the  best  mediums  of  trading  with  Indians  is  *'  paint " 
%.e.  Chinese  vermilion,  put  up  in  small  packets,  similar  to  Seidlitz 
powders.  They  use  it  for  painting  their  persons ;  and,  next  to 
whiskey,  which  it  is  a  criminal  offence  to  trade  or  give  to  Indians,  it 
is  a  very  favourite  article  amongst  most  wild  tribes  of  the  North-west. 
I  had  taken  several  pounds  with  me,  to  trade  horses  and  peltry  for  the 
men.  The  papers  containing  the  powdered  paint  are  known  as  '*  a 
paint" 


Life  in  Camp.  69 

this  a  great  aid  wlien  referring  in  after-time  to  one  in 
particular,  not  to  be  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  the  very 
roundabout  trapper  geography — which  at  best  was  only 
possible  in  that  portion  of  the  frontier  country  where  the 
creeks  and  mountains   had   names,  and  also   not   to  be 
obliged  to  use  strange- sounding  descriptive  terms,  as,  for 
instance,  *'  the  camp  six  miles  up  the  second  creek,  on  the 
west  side  of  the  south  fork  of  the  west  fork  of  the  Cotton- 
wood creek."     Not  only  may  this  "  Cottonwood  creek  "  be 
'prima  facie  wrong,  but  there  are  such  an   innumerable 
number  of  Cottonwood,  Beaver,  Great  and  Little  Sandy, 
Muddy,  Sweet-water,  and  Stinking- water  creeks   in    the 
West,  that,  at  best,  this  sort  of  designation  is  worse  than 
useless.     So  with  us  every  camp  received  its  name,  and 
was  henceforth  known  by  it.  Usually  called  after  some  in- 
cident— and  few  camps  were  without  that — which  occurred 
at  it,  one  could  instantly  identify  the  place  indicated  by 
the  speaker  when  he  referred  to  some  locality  visited  by 
us  two  or  three   months   previously.     Looking  through 
my  diary   I  come    upon   rather  odd  names.     "Hunger 
camps,'*  paraphrased  in  all  sorts  of  ways,  more  explanatory 
than  euphonious,  of  course  abounded  on  the  first  part  of 
the  trip.     Some  others  were  more  practical  than  funny, 
as,  for  instance,  the  "  Live  skunk,"  the  "  Dead  skunk," 
the  "  Sick  rattler,"  the  "  Knife  in  the  thigh/'  the  "  Pipe 
in  the  loaf,"  the  "  Boss  baker,"  the  *'  Peppery  glove," 
the  "Trampled  cofiee-mill,"  the  "Split  flour- sack,"  the 
"  Big  bear,"  and  the  "  Lost-stocking  camp."  Others  were 
pathetic:    "No  horse,"  "Gone  up,"  "Big  Lie,"  "Boss 
Lie" — the  two  last  referring  to  romancing  guests,  for  I 
am  speaking  also  of  previous  expeditions,  where  we  more 
frequently  came  into  contact  with  story-tellers  of  VVestem 


JO  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

grit  and  bottom ;  while  a  dozen  of  more  than  usnallj 
famous  ''Stampedes,"  each  designated  by  the  leading 
equine  criminars  name,  rendered  some  of  our  camp  sites 
memorable.  A  few  were  of  grim  import,  thus  "Dead- 
man's  camp,"  where  we  found  a  man's  body  in  the  brush 
close  to  our  roosts,  after  wondering  all  night  what  on 
earth  smelt  so  badly;  " White- woman*8-hand  camp'*  when 
one  of  the  dogs  (we  were  camped  near  the  old  emigrant 
trail)  discovered  a  mummified  human  hand,  which,  to  judge 
by  its  size,  was  that  of  a  woman.  Several  combined  the 
ludicrous  with  the  grinu  Thus,  for  instance,  on  two 
occasions  the  Plains  water,  more  than  usually  impreg- 
nated with  alkaline  salts,  made  us,  accustomed  as  we  were 
to  its  disturbing  effects,  remember  the  first  as  "  Ache 
camp  *'  (there  was  a  prefix  to  the  first  word) .  The  second 
instance,  a  more  flagrant  case  than  the  first,  Henry,  with 
his  usual  quick  originality,  helped  us  out  of  the  difficulty  of 
inventing  a  distinctive  name,  by  remarking  that  as  we  all 
had  the  ache  of  "  the  wurst  sort,'*  that  name  was  the  best 
one  for  this  uncanny  spot.  At  the  time  we  were  travelling 
through  cattle-ranche  country,  where  every  two  or  three 
days  we  would  meet  cavalcades  of  wild  young  Texan 
'*  ranchers "  or  cowboys.  At  the  camp  fireside,  where 
topographical  notes  upon  the  country  would,  as  usual,  be 
exchanged,  a  laugh  was  frequently  raised  by  the  catch 
answer  inquirers  would  receive,  who  on  hearing  us  talk  of 
the  "  sudden  death  "  qualities  of  that  'er  water  at  "  worst 
sort  camp,"  they  asked :  "  Worst  sort  of  what  camp  ?  '* 

Among  the  1879  camps  I  find  another  strangely  named 
one,  i.e,  "Wisdom-tooth  camp,'*  where  an  acquaintance, 
to  whom  I  have  before  referred,  was  laid  up,  cutting,  at  a 
somewhat  late  day  in  life,  his  masticating  ivory. 


Life  in  Camp.  71 

Not  a  few  were  descriptive  names.  Oiit>  instance  will 
suffice  :  it  was  "  Fish-in-bed  camp/'  on  the  borders  of 
'^  Fish-in-bed  lake/'  where,  one  fine  September  morning 
I  caught  a  two-pound  trout,  and  shot  a  fine  wapiti  stag, 
right  from  my  ''  bed,"  spread  within  a  foot  or  two  of  its 
placid  surface.  The  stag  had  come  down  to  water  in  the 
early  dawn,  and,  happening  to  see  his  outline  through 
the  mist,  my  Express  ended  his  career.  Half  jokingly,  I 
flung — half  an  hour  or  so  later,  at  Port's  suggestion,  just 
as  the  sun  was  tipping  the  crags  overhead — my  line  into 
the  shallow  water  at  my  side.  A  minute  later  a  big  lazy 
trout  had  committed  suicide,  obliging  me  to  get  up  and 
land  him. 

In  judging  these  simple  and  decidedly  unromantic  camp 
appellations,  the  reader  must  not  forget  that  we  were 
breathing  the  Western  air,  which  is  an  effective  vermin- 
killer  in  point  of  aesthetic  sentiment.  Most  deadly  of  the 
men's  caustic  humour  was  that  of  young  Henry.  Let 
one  instance  explain  what  I  mean.  We  had  made  camp 
in  a  more  than  usually  beautiful  spot  near  a  lake,  and  I 
was  sitting  on  one  of  the  side  panniers  near  the  fire 
smoking  my  pipe  and  doing  the  lazy.  Suddenly  my 
meditations  were  interrupted  by  Port's  voice  informing  me 
that  the  pack  I  was  sitting  on  seemed  to  be  on  fire. 
Raising  the  lid,  I  found  that  one  of  the  tin  boxes  contain- 
ing matches  had  got  on  fire,  probably  when  the  sack  was 
thrown  from  the  pack  animal.  I  had  been  sitting  on 
a  volcano,  for,  cheek  by  jowl,  with  the  match  tin  was 
the  fifty  pound  powder-keg  and  the  whiskey.  Henry, 
who  saw  that  I  was  about  to  scold  him,  for  I  had  told  him. 
several  times  to  keep  the  matches  and  the  powder  apart 
in  the  packs,  to  which  he  usually  would  answer,  "  I  guess 


72  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

if  they  do  blow  up,  we'll  find  it  out,"  saved  himself  by 
his  quick  wit.  His  quizzical,  ''  By  golly,  that  would  have 
been  rough  on  the  whiskey,"  turned  the  escape  I  had  had 
at  once  into  ridicule.  It  was  my  idea  to  call  the  camp,  in 
view  of  the  sufficiently  narrow  shave,  "  Pilgrim's  Progress 
Camp,"  but  that  was  too  '*  tony  "  for  the  men,  so  I  let 
them  have  their  way,  and  the  spot  was  henceforth  known 
as  the  *'  Boss's  go  down  to  heaven  camp." 

In  the  old  world  beautiful  localities  are  usually  dis- 
tinguished by  euphonious  appellations  that  someliow  give 
one  an  idea  of  the  place  which  is  not  as  a  rule  dis- 
appointed when  we  come  to  visit  it.  In  the  Atlantic 
States  of  America  this  is  often  carried  to  unpleasant  ex- 
tremes. Names  that  carry  the  weight  of  beauty  or  at  least 
that  of  mellow  old  age  are  given  to  outrageously  un- 
picturesque  localities  and  glaringly  new  edifices.  In  the 
West,  away  from  big-named  cities,  the  other  extreme  is 
the  rule.  The  old  Coureurs  de  hois  were  the  essence  of 
practicalness  unrelieved  by  a  particle  of  imagination. 
We  find  such  names  as  six  caiUoux  (the  six  pebbles) 
spoken  of  as  Sishjou,  the  Indian  tribe  Fois  Brules  are 
known  as  Boh  Rulys^  the  Bois  Blancs  as  Bob  Longs.  The 
river  known  to  the  Spanish  of  Mexico  as  Les  Animas  (the 
souls),  and  to  the  French  as  the  Purgatoire,  is  called  by 
the  western  man,  Ptcket-mre,  reminding  one  rather  of  the 
frontier  rendering  of  Wilkes  Booth's  words  after  shooting 
Lincoln,  Sic  semper  tyrannis,  i.e.  into  six  serpents  and  a 
tarantula, 

A  word  or  two  is  due  to  explain  to  those  of  my  readers 
who  may  not  have  'ravelled  with  a  trapper  pack-train, 
the  nature  of  camps.  There  are  three  kinds ;  the  **  tra\  el- 
ling,"  the  **  light-pack,"  and  the  "  permanent  **  camp.  The 


Life  in  Camp,  73 

first  is  the  one  made  every  evening  wLile  en  route y  pitclied 
at  the  termination  of  the  day's  travel,  at  the  first  suitable 
place  that  presents  itself,  where  water,  wood,  and  good 
grazing  for  the  horses  can  be  found.  When  the  first- 
mentioned  essential  is  absent,  and  a  camp  must  be  made 
to  rest  man  and  beast,  it  is  called,  as  we  have  already 
heard,  a  dry  camp — one  of  the  most  unsatisfactory  ex- 
periences of  Western  travel.  Where  wood,  not  even  the 
rank  sagebrush  or  greasewood,  or  buffalo  chips  are  pro- 
curable— a  catastrophe,  however,  of  rare  occurrence — a 
cold  camp  is  the  result.  The  permanent  one  is  where  a 
stay  from  a  day  or  two  to  several  weeks  is  made.  Light- 
pack  camps  are  made  when  short  branch  trips  become 
desirable.  You  take  but  quite  the  most  necessary  things — 
grub  for  two  or  three  days,  the  blankets  or  skins  of  one  bed 
to  accommodate  two  men,  and  everything  is  packed  on  one 
pack-horse.  These  are  by  far  the  most  enjoyable  ones ; 
for  you  can  travel  faster,  are  but  slightly  bothered  with  the 
pack-animals — for  the  single  one  you  have  with  you,  the 
steadiest  of  the  lot,  can  be  led — and  you  can  get  over  and 
through  places  where  the  whole  train  could  not  possibly 
succeed,  except  with  considerable  loss  of  time  and  great 
risk  to  the  less  sure-footed  animals.  We  were  constantly 
making  these  light-pack  camps.  Often  I  would  start  off 
alone,  or  Port  would  accompany  me,  while  the  rest  either 
travelled  on,  and  met  me  at  a  specified  landmark,  or  made 
a  permanent  camp,  with  a  view  to  trapping.  On  one  or 
two  occasions  we  *'  strung  out "  our  camps  even  longer  ; 
that  is,  we  made  several  light-pack  camps,  each  getting 
lighter  as  we  did  away  with  unnecessaries,  and  left  behind 
us  horses  we  did  not  want.  Thus  several  times  we  had 
our  stores  cached  at  one  place,  100  or  120  miles  off;  then 


74  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

we  left  SIX  or  seven  horses,  and  a  lot  of  unnecessaries,  in 
charge  of  Henry.  Twenty  miles  further,  the  second  man 
remained  back  with  three  horses,  "  trapping  a  creek  out ;" 
while  Port  and  I  went  twenty  or  thirty  miles  further,  to 
some  of  the  little  lakes,  where  he  and  two  pack-horses 
remained,  with  the  same  object  ;  my  own  goal  being 
higher  up,  close  to  the  snow- fields,  where  only  Boreas,  my 
favourite  hunting  pony,  could  get  to.  After  an  absence 
of  one,  two,  or  three  days,  I  returned  to  Port ;  and, 
taking  what  are  technically  called  "  back  tracks,"  we 
picked  up,  seriatim,  the  other  three  camps.  This  tele- 
scoping of  camps  is  a  very  pleasant  mode  of  giving  some 
of  your  horses  the  rest  they  are  in  want  of,  besides 
enabling  the  men  and  me  to  cover  more  ground  than 
otherwise  would  be  possible — they  with  their  traps,  and  I 
with  the  rifle. 

Awkward,  or  unexpected,  interruptions  now  and  again 
disturb  the  connecting  part  of  these  light-pack  camps. 
Thus,  for  instance,  a  snow  storm  would  come  on,  and  while 
it  would  be  very  bad  in  my  neighbourhood,  it  would  just 
*'  blow  a  little "  twenty  or  thirty  miles  off,  where  the 
**  outfit "  was  camped ;  and  hence,  while  they  would  act 
upon  the  pre-arranged  plan,  and  move  on  a  day  or  two's 
travel  to  where  we  were  to  meet,  the  storm  would  im- 
prison me  in  my  camp,  which,  generally,  of  the  very 
lightest  order,  consisted  of  a  couple  of  robes,  a  cup,  phite, 
and  a  frying-pan.  If  my  little  store  of  grub,  flour, 
coffee,  and  sugar  held  out,  and  a  quarter  of  a  Bighorn  or 
a  Blacktail  was  festooning  the  nearest  tree,  all  well  and 
good;  but  if  flour  ran  short,  and  I  had  killed  no  game 
before  the  storm  surprised  me,  the  consequences  were 
short  commons,  and  a  bad  time  generally.     I  remember 


Life  in  Camp.  75 

on  both  of  my  last  trips,  such  *'  disvobulations,**  as  the  men 
called  them,  breaking  grub  and  all  other  connexions  in  a 
most  tyrannical  and  sudden  manner — days  that  were  not 
as  pleasant  to  live  through  as  they  are  now  in  the  retro- 
spect. 

With  us,  travel  partook  of  the  usual  features  of  ex- 
ploration. None  of  us  had  ever  been  through  or  near 
the  districts  we  were  about  visiting.  We  had  nothing 
to  guide  us,  for  the  only  faulty  chart  that  at  the  time 
existed  of  the  Upper  Wind  River  and  Sierra  Soshon^ 
country — a  copy  of  which  I  had  procured  through 
the  kind  oflSces  of  the  General  then  commanding  the 
North -Western  Division,  had,  along  with  another  essential 
commodity,  i.e.  my  miniature  medicine-case,  being  en- 
gulfed during  one  of  the  crossings  of  the  Big  Wind 
River,  and,  no  doubt,  had  long  found  their  way  into  the 
Mississippi  and  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  And  even  had  we 
retained  the  chart's  services  it  would  not  have  helped  us, 
for  not  only,  as  I  subsequently  discovered,  was  it  faulty, 
but  its  scale  was  much  too  small  to  be  serviceable  for 
mapping  out  the  daily  course.'  Every  two  or  three  days 
we  would  sight  a  great  peak,  such  as  Fremont's,  or 
the  Teton;  and  as  we  knew  where  they  were,  the  lay 
of  the  country  could  be  marked  by  those  means.  The 
Big  Wind  River  mountains  afforded  us  all  the  sport 
we  wanted.  The  men  found  rare  trapping  ground, 
and  I  was  kept  busy  with  the  big  heads  of  Wapiti 
and  Bighorn — events  of  which  I  shall  presently  have 
to  speak  in  a  more  detailed  manner. 


*  Even  to-day  there  exists  no  serviceable  map  of  the  whole  Wio4 
River  and  Sierra  Soshon6  country. 


76  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

To  most  men  the  life  I  led  would  appear  nndoubtedly 
the  essence  of  old-fashioned  crabbedness.  And  j'et  \{ 
many  of  them  could  for  once  experience  the  glorious  sense 
of  freedom  that  fills  the  whole  being  in  those  far-off  wilds 
which  crown  the  great  dome  of  a  vast  Continent,  I  think 
they  would  presently  look  back  upon  idle,  colourless,  city 
existence  in  a  murky  and  vitiated  atmosphere,  no  longer 
as  the  brightest  and  most  joyous  of  existences,  but  rather 
as  one  which  to  endure  is  a  necessary  evil,  but  from  which 
to  escape  fills  you  with  the  light-hearted  transport  of  your 
schoolboy  days. 

"What,  for  instance,  can  be  more  delightful  to  the  lover 
of  sport  and  of  Nature  than  a  long  day's  ramble  about 
Timberline,  in  the  clear,  sparkling  atmosphere  of  those 
altitudes. 

If  you  are  an  admirer  of  forest  scenery,  there  are  vast 
stretches  of  literally  trackless  forests.  Some  composed  of 
veteran  spruce  pine,  where  the  trees  grow  close  together, 
and  you  can  wander  for  miles  without  catching  sight  of 
the  sky;  others,  on  the  uppermost  reaches  of  timber 
vegetation,  spread  over  the  upland  slopes  in  more 
detached  masses,  patches  of  snow  still  lingering  in  gulches 
on  the  northern  declivities  of  the  range.  Here  the  scenery 
resembles  Alpine  landscape :  the  Wengeren  Alp  repro- 
duced on  the  summit  of  the  Rockies.  If  you  are  a  lover 
of  the  curious  in  Nature,  visit  yonder  stretches  of  burnt 
forest,  set  afire  probably  by  a  July  or  August  thunder- 
storm. If  not  endowed  with  rare  endurance  and  provided 
with  an  axe,  you  will  fail  to  penetrate  very  far  into  the 
maze  of  fallen  trees ;  and  should  there  be  a  strong  breeze 
blowing,  the  crashing  of  lifeless  trees  who,  though  their 
roots  are  charred  to  cinders,  have  somehow  retained  an 


Life  in  Camp,  77 

upright  position,  will  warn  you  not  to  venture  into  the 
devastated  wood. 

Alpine  lake  scenery  is  replete  with  charming  details,  and 
here  among  the  hundreds  of  lakelets  you  have  the  oppor- 
tunity of  studying  their  character  in  a  diversity  repre- 
sented in  very  few  places  I  know  of.  Numerous  as  they 
are,  no  two  are  alike  in  expression.  Let  the  surroundings 
be  as  analogous  as  two  drops  of  their  water,  yet  a  subtle 
sometfiing  gives  identity  to  each.  In  not  a  few  instances 
it  will  be  80  unappreciable  that  words  cannot  depict  the 
difference.  Or  again,  there  will  be  a  curve  of  the  shore,  a 
peculiar  tint  of  the  water,  the  presence  or  absence  of  a 
wooded  promontory,  the  great  trunk  of  an  uprooted  pine, 
half  floating  on  the  placid  surface,  half  stranded  on  the 
pebbly  beach;  while  on  the  next  this  wreck  of  Nature  will 
be  replaced  by  a  colony  of  quaintly-tufted  duck,  one  and 
all  specific  features,  endowing  the  picture  with  a  distinct 
personality.  One  lake  you  wiU  see  with  a  great  Wapiti 
stag  or  quaintly  uncouth  Moose*  standing  knee-deep  in 
the  water,  or  the  presence  of  beaver  will  give  it  the  pecu- 
liar charm  of  inhabitedness ;  while  the  next  one,  just  as 
picturesquely  situated,  will  have  about  it  a  lifeless,  deso- 
late air,  that  detracts  from  its  idyllic  loveliness.  Some 
are  shut  in  by  beetling  walls  of  great  height,  which 
impress  you  with  a  sense  of  prison-like  melancholy. 
In  the  middle  of  one,  I  remember,  a  rocky  tooth  rose  from 
the  water  in  weird  form.  On  the  top  an  eagle  had  built 
its  nest;  reminding  me  of  the  historical  Old  Rocky 
Mountain  eagle,  the  sole  inhabitant  of  an  island  below 

*  In  the  Northern  extremity  of  the  Big  Wind  Kiver  chain  Moose 
can  now  and  again  be  seen  ;  it  is  about  the  most  southernmost  point 
to  which  they  extend. 


78  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

one  of  the  first  falls  of  the  Missouri,  in  Montana.  The 
bird  and  its  nest  was  minutely  described  by  the  first 
explorers  of  the  West,  Lewis  and  Clarke,  who  penetrated 
to  the  headwaters  of  the  great  river  in  1805.'  Other 
lakes,  higl.er  up  above  timber-line,  surrounded  by  Titanic 
boulders  and  rocks,  thrown  together  in  amazing  confusion, 
look  as  inhospitable  as  their  surroundings  are  savage. 
Some  are  deep,  and  their  water  of  an  exquisite  beryl  blue 
and  of  such  crystal  clearness,  that  from  overhanging  clifiB 
your  gaze  penetrates  to  a  depth  of  astonishing  profundity; 
others  are  shallow  and  black-looking,  with  no  visible 
afflux  or  influx  ;  some  swarm  with  fish,  others  lack  every 
sign  of  living  thing  in  or  around  their  gloomy  depths ; 
and  not  a  beaver-sign,  not  a  track  of  Wapiti,  Bighorn, 
or  Deer  is  visible  on  the  shore.  In  several  instances  I 
found  them  to  lie  in  tiers  over  each  other ;  thus  on  the 
southern  slopes  of  what  I  believe  is  Union  peak  there  are 
no  less  than  eleven  small  lakelets  lying  in  six  tiers  over 
each  other.  The  lowest  is  at  an  altitude  of  about  ten,  the 
highest  close  to  12,000  feet,  huge  perpendicular  steps  in 
the  mountain  formation  separating  each  set.  Such  is  the 
diversified  character  of  these  mountain  tarns,  on  many  of 
which  the  eye  of  white  man  had  presumably  never  rested. 
Let  the  reader  stretch  himself  at  my  side,  on  the  soft 
sward  on  the  banks  of  such  a  tranquil  mountain  lake, 
10,000  feet  above  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific,  to  one,  or  per- 

•  Most  of  the  subsequent  explorers  describe  this  bird,  or  at  least 
what  they  supposed  to  be  the  same  bird.  Thus  Reynolds,  who  saw 
him  in  1860,  and  Roberts  in  1872,  ppeak  of  him  as  crippled  by  age, 
and  the  latter  reports  his  pinions  as  badly  dilapidated.  A  later 
traveller  says  :  The  jolly  old  sentinel,  passing  away  the  golden  days 
of  a  ripe  age  in  one  eternal  4th  of  July,  looked  old  enough  to  have 
participated  in  the  affair  at  Bunker  Hill  1 


Life  in  Camp.  79 

haps  to  both  of  which  it  sends  its  waters.  It  is  a  lovely 
autumn  afternoon ;  the  forenoon's  stalk  has  been  a  suc- 
cessful one,  for  yonderj'his  noble  antlers  half  immersed  in 
the  limpid  waters  of  the  lake,  lies  stretched  out  the 
majestic  form  of  a  master  of  the  forest,  a  giant  among 
Wapiti.  Arduous  has  been  the  stalk  after  the  wary 
monarch  of  the  woods,  and  many  a  smaller  brother  escaped 
with  his  life  as,  bent  upon  bagging  the  big  one,  I  stepped 
with  the  noiseless  tread  of  moccasined  feet  through  the 
dense  timber  or  along  the  creeks — for  my  guide,  the  fresh 
tracks  of  my  quarry ;  for  my  sole  companion,  the  old 
Express  rifle  which  has  rolled  over  many  a  one  before. 

An  eight-hours'  stalk  in  the  keen,  bracing  atmosphere 
of  these  altitudes  makes  one  hungry,  and  the  slices  of 
Bighorn  meat  and  the  chunks  of  camp-baked  bread,  washed 
down  by  the  contents  of  a  battered  old  hunting-flask, 
disappear  with  rapidity — adding,  when  the  appetite  is  once 
appeased  and  the  pipe  is  set  ablaze,  fresh  beauties  to  the 
lovely  scene  rolled  out  before  me.  The  tranquil  lake, 
with  not  a  ripple  on  it,  stretches  away  to  the  distant 
abruptly-rising  clifis,  that  lead  up  to  snow-fields  and  to 
the  grandly  built-up  peak.  The  lake  is  encircled  on  three 
sides  by  an  unbroken  chain  of  sombre  pine  forest,  and  the 
little  bays,  and  wooded  forelands  jutting  out  into  the 
water,  are  fringed  with  groves  of  the  hardy  willow  peculiar 
to  these  altitudes. 

AVith  hands  crossed  under  my  head  I  lie  there,  and  let 
the  gentlest  of  breezes,  soughing  through  the  tapering 
tops  of  the  stately  pines,  play  with  the  open  collar  of  my 
flannel  shirt.  Utter  seclusion  has  always  great  charms, 
and  nowhere  more  so  than  here.  The  nearest  human 
habitation  is  ten  days'  ride  off,  and  for  many  weeks  not  • 


So  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

strange  human  being  has  crossed  my  path.  And  yet  this 
loneliness  is  not  oppressive,  for  dumb  friends  break  the 
monotony  and  enchain  attention.  As  the  sun  sinks,  gilding 
the  Cyclopean  masonry  of  the  buttresses  overhead,  my 
chum  and  special  crony,  the  "  old  man  "  beaver,  with 
his  spouse  and  kittens,  will  presently  issue  forth  from 
their  underground  habitation,  and  furrow  the  glassy  sur- 
face of  the  lake  with  silvery  streaks  as  they  swim  from 
bank  to  bank,  cutting  or  collecting  feedsticks — the  winter's 
provender — or  tall  saplings  to  repair,  on  the  most  approved 
principles  of  beaver  hydrostatics,  some  damage  to  the 
family  dam.  My  friends  of  the  deer  tribe  are  sure  to  come 
down  to  the  water ;  and  if  the  day  has  been  warm,  or  the 
flies  and  mosquitoes  troublesome  in  the  dense  timber  to 
which  most  game  retires  during  noon,  I  shall  witness  such 
a  bathing  scene  as  would  make  the  heart  of  a  Landseer 
throb.  The  wary  otter,  out  on  his  foraging  expedition, 
is  creeping  along  the  banks  of  the  lake,  and  woe  to  the 
trout  that  comes  within  the  reach  of  his  extraordinarily 
agile  grab. 

A  flight  of  wild  geese,  wanderers  from  northern  latitudes 
bent  for  the  south,  alight  on  the  lake,  the  loud  splash  of 
their  desccMt  frightening  away  the  beaver  and  a  quaint 
little  family  of  blue- winged  teal,  who  have  been  circling 
and  diving  about  for  the  last  hour  or  two  in  the  little  bay, 
not  ten  yards  from  where  I  am  lying,  skimming  over 
the  water,  uttering  their  low  plaintive  "  teat,  teat,*'  the 
blue  of  their  wings  glistening  like  polished  steel.  They 
disappear  at  last  at  the  end  of  a  long  silvery  pathway 
made  by  their  wings  on  the  glass-like  surface.  * 

It  is  remarkable   that  these    beautiiul  birds   seem  equally  at 
home  in  the  extreme  north  as  in  the  centre  of  America.     During 


Life  in  Camp,  81 

The  gentle  breeze  has  died  away,  as  it  often  does  aftei 
the  sun  has  set.  The  glorious  colours,  tinting  the  heavens 
with  ever-changing  brilliancy,  have  at  last  given  way  to 
that  peculiar  clearness  of  the  atmosphere  which  lights  up 
the  distant  snow-clad  peak  with  an  ashen  hue,  and  makes 
the  forest  seem  nearer  to  us  than  ever.  Night  is  closing 
in  apace,  a  gauzy  mist  rises  from  the  lake,  while  stray 
stars  are  already  visible,  reminding  me  that  I  have  a  long 
walk  to  camp,  across  strange  country.  The  pipe  is  re-filled, 
and  shouldering  my  rifle  I  stroll  homewards.  Crossing 
long  stretches  of  open  upland,  dark  forms  of  deer  or 
elk  flit  hither  and  thither,  and  as  likely  as  not  old 
Ephraim,  the  grizzly  of  the  E-ockies  is  setting  out  on  his 
nocturnal  raid.  The  bold  outline  of  yonder  peak  is  a 
landmark,  and  the  north  star  my  guide,  leading  me 
through  the  forest,  across  gulches,  and  along  the  gloomy 
depth  of  canyons  as  safely  as  had  I  a  beaten  trail  before  me. 
The  sombre  woods,  looking  so  silent  and  gloomy  from  the 
distance,  are,  as  I  enter  them,  alive  with  strange  noises. 
My  moccasined  feet  do  not  allow  me  to  walk  very  fast,  for 
there  is  a  wealth  of  sharp  pointed  branches  strewing  the 
ground,  and  in  the  darkness,  with  only  fitful  moonbeams 
finding  their  way  through  the  network  of  pines,  the  foot 
instinctively  seeks  its  way  in  a  cautious  manner.    Stealthily 

the  breeding  season  they  are  as  plentiful  on  the  Saskatchewan  as 
they  are  at  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi.  Audubon  says  that  they 
are  to  be  found  as  far  north  as  the  67th  parallel,  and  as  far  south  as 
the  island  of  Cuba.  Unlike  the  green-winged  teal,  which  brave  the 
coldest  weather,  they  depart  at  the  first  sign  of  ice.  It  is  interestirg 
to  note  that  Audubon  and  Bach  man  believed  that  the  habits  of  the 
blue-winged  teal  proved  a  double  migration.  On  the  highland  lakes 
to  which  I  refer  I  have  often  seen  them.  They  swim  very  buoyantly, 
and  generally  close  together. 

O 


82  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

I  thread  my  way  through  the  timber,  while  around  me  la 
to  be  heard  that  quaintest  of  sounds  emitted  by  the 
Wapiti  stag  at  this  season  of  the  year.  At  night,  in  the 
silent  forest,  this  tone,  not  unlike  the  notes  of  an  -3Eolian 
harp,  has  a  weird  charm  about  it,  that  matches  well  the 
grand  melancholy  vastness  of  Western  mountain  landscape. 
My  faithful  guide-star  leads  me  past  a  small  forest  tarn,  a 
mere  pool  in  comparison  to  the  one  just  left.  Here  again 
there  is  a  family  of  beaver  at  their  nocturnal  work  of  dam- 
building;  and  as  I  proceed  along  the  shore  studded  with 
willows,  the  paterfamilias  crosses  the  mirror-like  surface  lit 
up  by  the  bright  moonlight,  infinitely  brighter  than  in 
the  Old  World,  a  silvery  ripple  marking  the  course  of  the 
dark  bullet-shaped  head — all  that  is  visible  of  the  indefati- 
gable little  labourer.  He  is  making  for  a  willow-bush  a 
yard  or  so  from  me,  where,  ready  for  transportation,  lie  a 
number  of  slender  stems,  from  two  to  seven  feet  long, 
which  he  has  cut  under  water  during  daytime.  Watching 
him  as  I  stand  motionless,  hidden  by  a  friendly  shadow,  he 
raises  himself  out  of  the  water,  his  silken  coat,  reflecting 
the  bright  moonbeams,  appearing  as  of  burnished  silver. 
Firmly  grasping  between  his  powerful  teeth  a  stem  at  the 
big  end,  where  it  is  some  inch  and  a  half  in  diameter,  he 
dives  backwards  and  proceeds  to  return  to  his  dam,  with  the 
leafy  stem  trailing  beside  him.  A  twig  breaks  under  my 
weight,  and  the  noise  frightens  the  beaver,  who,  with  a 
loud  slap  of  his  broad  tail  on  the  water,  dives  under, 
leaving  the  stem  to  float  in  the  centre  of  gradually  widen- 
ing circles,  to  mark  the  spot  where  the  cautious  animal 
sought  safety  in  his  element.  The  noise  has  not  only 
disturbed  the  beaver,  but  also  a  fine  Wapiti  stag,  who  has 
been  lurking  unobserved  in  the  thick  undergrowth  near 


Life  in  Camp.  Z^ 

me,  where  lie  failed  to  scent  or  hear  my  approach.  With 
one  grand  bound  he  has  cleared  the  brush,  and  is  standing 
up  to  his  knees  in  the  lake,  his  whole  attitude  that  of  keen 
watching.  He  is  a  noble  fellow — an  old  warrior,  too,  for 
his  shaggy  neck  is  nearly  twice  the  usual  size,  and  one  of 
the  main  prongs  of  his  massive  antlers  is  broken  oflp  short. 
Full  five  minutes  he  stands  there,  gazing  intently  towards 
the  tree  under  whose  sweeping  boughs  I  am  standing. 
The  breeze  is  favourable,  and  the  deep  shadow  hides  my 
form  80  effectually,  that,  notwithstanding  my  proximity, 
he  cannot  see  his  human  foe. 

Stepping  out  from  behind  the  tree,  I  snap  my  fingers. 
A  toss  of  the  head,  and  the  stag  is  off,  crashing  madly 
through  the  timber  in  his  headlong  flight,  while  the 
peculiar  noise  of  his  antlers  striking  against  the  reverbe- 
rating trunks  of  lofty  pines,  can  be  heard  for  some  time. 

Other  strange  sounds  fall  on  the  ear  as  I  proceed  with 
quickened  step  towards  camp,  sounds  that  you  never  hear 
in  daytime,  when,  usually,  oppressive  stillness  reigns  in  the 
great  upland  forests.  The  hoot  of  the  owl  is  one  of  the 
most  quaintl}'  weird;  but  it  is  not  like  the  unearthly 
wail  of  the  puma,  or  mountain  lion,  demoniacal  and  ghoul- 
like as  no  other  sound  in  the  wide  realm  of  nature.  As  it 
re-echoes  through  the  forests  you  involuntarily  shudder,  for 
it  is  more  like  a  woman's  long-drawn  and  piteous  cry  of 
terrible  anguish  than  any  other  sound  you  could  liken  it 
to.  Once  heard,  it  will  never  be  forgotten  ;  and  it  can  no 
more  be  compared  to  the  jabber  of  the  cayote  or  the  howl 
of  the  hyena,  than  a  baby's  cry  of  displeasure  resembles  its 
mother's  piercing  shriek  of  terror  as  she  sees  the  little  one 
in  a  position  of  danger.  Out  only  at  night,  they  are  of  all 
beasts  of  prey  the  most  watchful,  and  most  difficult  to 

G   2 


84  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

shoot ;  and  thougli  their  fearful  call,  in  very  close  vicinity, 
has  frequently  stampeded  our  horses,  and  startled  some  of  ua 
from  sleep,  I  have  only  been  near  enough  to  shoot,  and  kill, 
one  single  specimen  in  all  my  wanderings.  Half  an  hour 
more,  and  I  reach  the  last  stretch  of  meadow,  bathed  in 
a  flood  of  moonlight.  Grazing  on  it  in  peaceful  quiet  are 
our  trusty  friends  the  horses.  From  afar  they  have  seen 
me,  and  their  snorts  show  their  watchfulness ;  for  here  the 
grizzly  is  at  home,  and  pony  meat  is  better  than  ants  and 
berries.  My  well-known  voice  pacifies  them,  however,  at 
once,  and  brings  the  old  horse,  my  favourite,  trotting  up 
to  me  to  get  his  wonted  piece  of  bread,  while  the  two 
colts,  favourite  playfellows  of  his,  dash  past  me  in  a 
spirited  race,  their  heels  high  up  in  the  air.  Both  these 
lively  young  animals,  general  pets  of  the  camp,  were  foaled 
on  the  trip,  and,  wonderful  to  say,  managed  to  outlive 
great  hardships.  The  commotion  among  the  faithful 
workers  has  been  noticed  in  camp  by  the  two  watch-dogs, 
well  trained  to  their  work.  They  dash  out  into  the  dark- 
ness ;  but  their  angry  bay  changes  into  a  bark  of  pleasure 
and  welcome  as  they  recognize  me,  and,  whining  with 
doggish  delight,  bound  towards  the  belated  wanderer. 

Half  a  dozen  big  trunks  of  dry  Alpine  cedar- wood  have 
been  thrown  on  the  fire  by  the  men — a  sure  sign  that  supper 
is  ready,  for  no  cooking  can  be  done  at  a  blaze  as  big  as  a 
small  loghouse  afire — and  the  broad  flames  leap  high  up, 
licking  the  far-reaching  branches  of  the  next  pine. 

The  camp  scene,  as  I  see  it  from  the  dark  recess  of  the 
forest,  bathed  in  the  brightest  of  lights,  and  surrounded 
by  shadows  of  quaint  shape  and  varying  efiect,  is  a 
picturesque  sight.  There  is  little  about  it  that  reminds 
one  of  civilization — no  tent,  camp-stools,  and  other  luxuries 


Life  in  Camp,  85 

of  modem  "  campers,"  strew  the  ground.  The  two  men 
and  the  boy,  all  aglow  with  Rembrandt  colours,  are  wild 
rough-looking  customers,  their  six-shooters  in  their  belts, 
and  their  rifles  leaning  against  a  handy  tree.  They  have 
finished  their  supper — for,  having  a  very  erratic  **  boss/' 
they  never  wait  for  him — and  are  grouped  round  the  fire, 
smoking  the  pipe  of  good-fellowship  ere  they  begin  the 
work  of  the  evening.  A  dozen  steel  traps  and  a  pile  of 
fur  gleaming  with  silvery  sheen,  as  the  silken  coats  of 
several  beaver  and  one  wolverine  catch  the  light,  are 
scattered  about  at  their  feet.  Two  hours*  work  for  two 
men  means  that  heap,  for  the  animals  have  to  be  skinned 
most  carefully,  and  the  peltry  stretched  and  pegged  out. 
After  my  own  supper,  of  a  panful  of  trout  fried  in  bear's 
fat,  and  a  tender  loin  steak  of  a  bighorn,  has  been  done 
justice  to,  my  briar — tied  with  a  piece  of  buck-string 
round  my  neck,  for  pipes  have  a  most  uncanny  knack  of 
getting  lost,  and  this  one  is  the  last  but  one  out  of  the  half- 
dozen  I  started  with — is  pulled  forth,  filled,  and  its  comfort- 
ing contents  are  lighted  at  an  ember  from  the  bright  log-fire. 
Leaning  back  in  the  hollow  of  my  saddle,  which  has 
furnished  me  with  a  convenient  prop  during  the  meal,  the 
sporting  news  of  the  past  twelve  hours  is  exchanged. 
The  men  are  no  great  arithmeticians ;  so,  after  counting 
the  heap  of  peltry,  and  making  a  rapid  summary,  I  help 
them  to  form  a  correct  estimate  of  their  take,  and  of  the 
precise  number  of  dollars  their  day's  labour  has  put  them 
ahead.  My  own  brief  tale  is  soon  told :  "  Jumped  a 
grizzly,  missed  a  good  head,  but  got  a  better  one;'*  and, 
while  the  plans  for  the  morrow,  the  fetching  in  of  the 
aforesaid  good  head,  and  the  strategical  distribution  of 
the  entire  stock  of  traps,  are  being  duly  matured  in  council| 


86  Camps  in  the  Rockies* 

time  has  passed,  and  I  must  fain  turn  to  my  several  Kttle 
camp  duties. 

The  evening  wears  on,  and  as  the  lazy  ones  watch  the 
glittering  skinning  knife  busily  at  work — chaff  the  only 
plaister,  if  the  keen  edge  of  the  oddly-shaped  tool  peels 
the  wrong  hide — \  presently  set  out  to  take  a  last  look 
at  our  horses,  and  at  our  only  watch,  the  *'  dipper,"  as  the 
constellation  of  the  Great  Bear  is  called  out  West,  and 
which  by  its  varying  positions  indicates  time  as  correctly 
as  the  sun  at  daytime.  Everything  is  quiet;  the  horses 
are  grazing  peacefully,  and  the  only  audible  sound  we  can 
hear  is  the  distant  whistling  of  Wapiti.  Dragging  behind 
me  as  I  return  to  camp  a  dead  pine,  I  pile  it  on  the 
fire,  and  by  the  bright  flames  which  leap  up,  the  bear  and 
buffalo- skin  bed,  is  smoothed  and  occupied.  Soon,  wonder- 
fully soon,  the  sound  sleep  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  husher 
ihecamp* 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OUB  DUMB   JTRIENDS   IN   CAMP. 

Oar  horses  on  the  glade — Boreas,  my  fayourite  horse — His  origin  and 
developmBnt — His  good  and  bad  qualities — Baldfaced  Hattie— 
Vixenish  temper — Getting  bucked  off — Some  of  our  other  horses 
-—The  rattlesnake  and  its  peculiarities — The  skunk  and  his  indi- 
viduality. 

Hitherto  I  have  spoken  of  our  faithful  dumb  helpmates 
in  a  very  casual  manner,  hardly  worthy  of  the  important 
place  they  necessarily  occupy  in  the  record  of  our  trip ;  so 
ere  winter  snows,  long  weary  rides,  and  the  scantiest  of 
"  feed "  have  reduced  their  plump  outline  to  anatomy 
woeful  to  behold,  let  us  make  their  acquaintance. 

We  have  not  far  to  go,  for  there,  with  grass  reaching 
half-way  up  their  knees,  they  are  rambling  over  the  forest 
glade  opening  on  a  little  Alpine  lake.  They  are  ap- 
parently enjoying  to  the  full  the  "  shining  hours  "  of  the 
long  afternoon. 

It  is  an  off-day,  or  rather  an  off-afternoon,  for  an  early 
ride  of  twelve  miles  has  brought  us  hither  long  before 
noon.  Charmed  by  the  beauty  of  the  spot  and  the  rich- 
ness of  the  feed,  we  have  for  once  metamorphosed,  in  the 
delightfully  independent  manner  of  our  travel,  what  was 


88  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

intended  only  as  a  noon  camp  into  a  night  camp,  tlius 
giving  us  and  our  horses  a  long,  unbroken  afternoon  of 
welcome  rest.  An  ample  repast  has  laid  a  pleasantly 
substantial  fond  for  an  idle  spell  with  our  pipe  and  our 
thoughts. 

Not  often  did  I  indulge  voluntarily  in  such  hours  of 
complete,  downright  laziness;  for  once,  however,  I  suc- 
cumbed to  the  temptation.  A  stately  pine-tree,  standing 
alone,  and  erect  as  a  sentinel,  in  the  centre  of  the  forest- 
girt  glade  which  rises  in  swelling  lines  from  the  perfectly 
smooth  surface  of  the  lake,  offers  an  invitingly  shady 
bower ;  for  though  we  are  in  close  proximity  to  snow- 
fields,  and  only  a  week  has  passed  since  the  last  snow- 
storm buried  us  for  two  days,  yet,  during  the  noon  hours 
of  the  gloriously  bright  S\}ptember  day,  shade  is  acceptable. 
So,  armed  with  my  recently  replenished  tobacco-pouch,  I 
retire  under  the  drooping  boughs  of  the  pine,  and  not,  as 
the  men  apparently  expected,  to  the  crags  overhead  or  to 
the  quiet  sombre  forests,  where  a  Bighorn,  or  a  Wapiti,  or 
even  a  Grizzly,  would  perhaps  reward  a  leisurely  afternoon's 
stalk.  "  Guess  the  boss  has  eaten  too  much  dinner,"  is  a 
remark  overheard  by  me  as  I  stride  towards  my  tree ;  it 
shows,  I  sadly  fear,  of  what  un poetic  elements  your  true 
frontiersman's  character  is  composed. 

I  am  soon  lying  on  my  back,  hands  folded  under  my  head, 
and  knees  crossed  on  high,  my  moccasiued  feet  forming  a 
buff  and  very  domestic  foreground  to  as  pretty  a  vista  of 
Alpine  scenery  and  genuine  mountain  life  as  pen  can 
sketch.  Between  the  tree  and  the  pebble-strewn  shore  of 
the  tarn,  its  forested  shores  curving  in  and  out  around 
beryl-green  bays  and  pine-crowned  promontories,  there  is 
the  sloping  meadow  on  which  the   horses    are  feeding. 


Our  Dumb  F^  tends  in  Camp.  89 

With  whom  shall  I  commence  P  Who  but  Boreas,  my 
old  favourite,  is  worthy  to  take  the  first  place  ?  He  is  a 
**  buckskin,"  or  claybank-coloured,^  cob-built  pony.  His 
sturdy  exterior,  the  mould  of  his  shoulders  and  strong 
limbs,  betray  endurance,  but  not  fleetness ;  and  ten 
minutes  on  his  back  would  convince  you  that  you  are 
astride  of  a  remarkably  lazy  horse. 

But  there  is  a  good  side  to  every  unpleasant  event,  and 
primitive  trapper-life  teaches  you  to  hunt  up  both  aspects 
of  the  little  trials  that  may  overwhelm  you.  The  good 
point  of  this  laziness  is,  that  it  keeps  him  in  a  far  better 
condition  than  were  he  a  more  willing  or  spirited  animal. 

Boreas,  as  I  have  said,,  cannot  exactly  be  called  a  fast 
horse.  When  I  was  "  trading  '^  for  him  the  vendor  asked  me, 
**  Kin  ye  ride,  stranger  ?  '*  Rather  a  useless  sort  of  ques- 
tion, I  thought,  for  I  had  just  dismounted  from  trying  his 
paces  in  my  habitually  cautious  manner ;  and  having  found 
hit  11  an  essentially  quiet  horse,  I  owned,  with  a  returning 
wave  of  bravery,  that  I  thought  I  could  "a  little,'* 
adding  the  query  whether,  in  his  opinion,  I  should  be  able 
to  run  antelope  with  him  ?  For  I  was  then  still  filled  with 
the  tenderfoot's  passion  of  breaking  down  horses  and  not 
getting  antelopes ;  and  his  answer,  given  in  the  dry 
Western  intonation,  while  a  sort  of  far-away  yearning 
look  stole  over  his  features,  ran  thus  :  "  In  course  you  kin, 
stranger,  and  a  better  cayuse  for  that  y'er  *ntlope  running 
you  jist  niver  forked.  No  darned  'ntlope  could  live  near 
him ;  and  if  ye  engineer  him  right  up  and  down,  when  you 

*  This  neutral  tint  is  bj  far  the  best  colour  for  a  shooting  pony,  a 
matter  of  considerable  importance.  To  one  who  has  no  experience, 
the  colour  would  seem  far  too  light ;  but  this  is  not  the  case,  a«  the 
most  ordinary  trial  will  show. 


90  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

glimpse  a  band,  ye'll  have  all  the  sport  ye  want,  and  needn't 
hold  him  either,  for  fast  running  niver  did  hurt  him/'  ' 
I  hadn't  been  in  the  West  very  long  when  those  words 
were  addressed  to  me,  so  I  thought  there  was  just  a  little 
bit  of  exaggeration  about  that  "  living  *'  business  of  the 
antelopes,  who,  as  I  had  found  out,  required  remarkably 
fleet  horses  to  keep  them  as  much .  as  in  sight.  Two  days 
afterwards  I  had  opportunity  to  try  the  powers  of  my  new 
acquisition  after  the  fleet  game  of  the  Plains.  It  was  my 
turn  to  have  that  far-away  yearning  look  steal  over  my 
features.  His  former  owner's  words  came  true.  The  ante- 
lope did  not  continue  to  live  near  him.  I  had  all  the  sport 
I  wanted,  and  the  speed  of  the  chace  no  more  hurt  my  steed 
than  did  the  excitement  attendant  upon  it.  Some  Texas 
cowboys,  who  watched  me  from  a  distance,  subsequently 
made  some  considerate  inquiries,  showing  what  a  lively 
interest  they  had  taken  in  my  sport.  They  wanted  to 
know  whether  I  had  driven  stakes  into  the  ground  to 
see  that  I  was  moving ;  and  whether  I  felt  very  tired,  for 
"  that  six-year-old  club  had  no  slouch  of  a  lazy  time,  and 
them  legs  did  seem  kinder  willin'  to  shove  the  old  boss 
along.''  Such,  and  more,  were  their  unkind  remarks. 
They  pained  me ;  and  while  I  now  perfectly  understood 
why  my  horse's  name  was  "  Bibleback," '  I  forthwith 
decided  to  change  it  to  a  more  suitable  one,  the  name 

*  This  "  never  did  hurt  him,**  was  used,  as  I  afterwards  learnt,  in 
the  usual  Western  sense,  indicating  quite  something  else  than  I 
inferred.  The  frontiersman  says  of  an  irreligious  fellow  :  **  Relijjion 
never  hurt  him ;  "  or  of  a  bumptious  official, — "  That  man's  office  is 
hurting  him." 

*  When  I  asked  the  vendor  why  he  was  called  "Bibleback,"  he 
replied  in  his  twangy  voice  : — "  Wa'll,  stranger,  I  reckon  because  th« 
hefty  (weighty)  preachin'  that's  been  done  on  his  yar  back.** 


Our  Dumb  Friends  in  Camp.  91 

wLicli  tbe  reader  already  knows.  Boreas  was  not  an 
expensive  horse  as  Western  horses  go ;  he  stood,  or  rather, 
as  I  am  still  his  owner,  he  stands  me  in  just  forty-five 
dollars  (£9).  The  way  I  got  him  was  rather  singular.  On 
starting  on  my  first  trip  I  had  invested  in  a  more  expensive 
animal  named  Dickie,  From  causes  then  inexplicable 
Dickie  somehow  went  dead  lame  before  we  were  three  days 
out,  and  I  had  either  to  ride  a  spare  but  uncomfortably 
frisky  cayuse,  with  a  lot  of  unbrokenness  clinging  about 
its  vicious  nature,  or  sit  on  the  waggon,  while  my  late 
purchase  was  tied  to  the  rear  of  the  "  schooner.*'  Fate 
decreed  that  we  should  meet  a  few  days  later  a  "  bull- 
whacking  outfit " — a  convoy  of  heavy  ox- waggons,  on  their 
way  to  one  of  the  outlying  frontier  forts  with  Government 
stores.  Among  the  half-dozen  horses  that  were  running 
loose  behind  the  long  string  of  huge  waggons  was  the 
"  claybank  "  Bibleback.  He  was  not  much  to  look  at ; 
lean,  shaggy- coated,  he  looked  every  inch  a  "  bull- 
whacker's  cayuse,'*  but  he  was  the  best  of  the  lot.  The 
leader,  or  "waggon-boss,"  a  lanky  Arkansian,  came 
strolling  down  to  our  camp,  and  after  an  apparently  very 
careless  survey  of  the  lame  one,  and  a  long  string  of  hard 
words  to  show  that  he  did  not  belie  his  occupation  or 
origin,  presently  opened  on  the  trade. 

"  Trading,"  I  must  here  mention,  is  the  favourite 
amusement  of  j'our  genuine  Western  man.  In  other 
words,  it  is  barter  in  kind,  now  and  again  with  a  dollar  or 
two  thrown  in  to  kick  the  beam  if  it  so  be  wanted,  and 
always  with  a  drink  to  finish  up.  Everything,  or  very 
nearly  everything,  the  frontiersman  owns  is  "traded." 
His  "  ranche,"  or  log-house  home,  is  probably  swapped  for 
an  old-pattern  Winchester  repeater,  *'  as  wouldn't  shoot 


93  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

straight  even  round  the  corner,"  as  he  will  privately 
inform  you  with  a  wink ;  and  when  you  ask  why  the  other 
party  had  not  tried  its  shooting  qualities,  he  tells  you — 
"  Fact  is,  stranger,  thar  wasn't  anything  but  his  hat  to 
shoot  at  (on  the  level  and  stoneless  Plains),  and  that  was 
so  full  of  holes  as  would  have  taken  all  the  yar  hats  in 
cryation  set  up  behind  it  to  show  a  bullet  hole  ;  so  the  old 
man  took  the  shooter  along  mor'n  (more  for)  its  looks." 
To  us,  who  are  supposed  to  possess  the  rauch-desired  articles 
of  barter — whiskey,  powder,  or  cartridges,  and  the  every- 
day "  grub  "  items,  such  as  flour,  coffee,  and  sugar — some 
typical  "  trades  "  were  offered.  For  our  camp-stove  and 
six  pounds  of  coffee  we  could  once  have  got  a  pack-mule  ; 
for  a  horse  and  a  gallon  of  our  precious  whiskey,  a  silver- 
mine,  consisting  of  six  ''  recorded"  claims,  were  offered; 
and  when  we  showed  some  hesitation,  a  pair  of  boots  wa« 
added  to  the  allures  of  the  mine. 

We  could  have  become  "  house-owners  "  ten  times  over, 
at  trades  varying  between  a  horse,  a  pint  of  whiskey, 
or  a  hundred  Winchester  cartridges.  To  trade  coats, 
saddles,  blankets,  harness,  spurs,  for  hats,  cartridges,  six- 
shooters,  coffee-mills,  or  frying-pans,  with  a  horn-handled 
spoon  or  a  pewter  plate  thrown  in  to  make  a  level  trade 
of  it,  seems  to  be  the  legitimate  source  of  most  of  the 
possessions  of  the  poorer  ranks  of  the  frontier  population. 
But  the  most  flourishing  of  all  trades  is  the  one  in  horse- 
flesh, i.e.  an  exchange  of  horses,  the  minor  good  quali- 
ties of  the  one,  should  there  be  any  great  difference  in 
their  merits,  being  made  up  if  possible  by  *cuteness  on  the 
part  of  its  owner.  I  have  often  watched  these  *'  horse 
trades,"  and  every  time  came  away  a  *'  better "  man,  at 
least  in  the  Western  sense  of  the  word.     Naturally  each 


Our  Dumb  Friends  in  Camp.  93 

of  the  traders  thinks  himself  the  'cuter  of  the  two ;  both 
laugh  in  their  sleeves  at  the  stupidity  of  the  other,  both 
grumble  to  each  other's  face,  ard  finally,  both  are  gene- 
rally equally  unscrupulous  in  taking  advantage  of  pre- 
vious knowledge  of  little  vices  which  their  property 
happens  to  possess.  In  my  own  case — for  I  have  yet  to 
narrate  on  what  basis  Boreas  was  traded  for  Dickie — the 
blemishes  were,  alas !  too  apparent,  as,  tied  to  the  hind 
end  of  the  waggon,  the  latter  limped  along  in  a  most 
woebegone  fashion.  The  *' steer  smashing  trainboss" 
looked  me  squarely  in  the  eye  when  I  told  him,  in  reply 
to  his  question,  that  when  I  started,  the  horse  was  per- 
fectly sound,  and  had  gone  lame  the  third  day  out — a 
statement  which  he  seemed  to  believe.  More  I  could  not 
tell  about  the  cause  of  the  lameness,  which  was  on  his 
near  front  leg,  for  we  had  no  opportunity  to  consult  a 
Vet.  to  decide  the  nice  question  whether  the  mischief 
was  a  mere  passing  or  a  serious  shoulder  lameness. 
His  fine  sleek  exterior  and  capital  points,  being  an  expen- 
sive horse,  however,  had  made  a  deep  impression  upon 
the  bull-guiding  genius,  hence  his  hints  that  perhaps  we 
might  make  a  level  trade  between  the  sound  Bibleback 
and  the  lame  Dickie — who  not  only  was  perfectly  useless 
to  me  in  his  present  condition,  but  also  a  source  of  bother — 
overjoyed  me.  Had  he  known  what  a  green  one  he  had 
to  deal  with,  he  could  have  got  five-and-twenty  dollars 
and  Dickie  for  the  sound  Bibleback,  and  indeed  I  had 
expressed  myself  to  this  efiect  to  my  companions.  Sup- 
pressing my  pleasurable  emotions,  though  I  dared  not 
look  at  the  rest  of  the  party  lest  I  should  laugh,  I  had 
the  unconscionable  impudence  to  demand  five  dollars  and 
the   sound  horse   for   the   lame   one.     This   settled   the 


94  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

matter,  for  liad  I  closed  at  once  on  the  level  trade,  the 
bullwhacker  would  have  perceived  my  eagerness,  and 
probably  would  have  backed  out,  or  the  five  or  more 
dollars  would  have  been  on  his  side  instead  of  mine.  As 
it  was  we  had  ten  minutes*  higgling  over  the  "fiver," 
which  I  finally  waived,  and  Bibleback  changed  owners  on 
a  level  trade — my  first,  and  remembering  certain  subse- 
quent transactions,  by  no  means  my  worst  trade  in  horse- 
flesh out  West.  A  month  later  nobody  would  have  recog- 
nized in  the  sleek,  sturdy,  "  bob-tailed  '*  cob  Boreas,  the  ill- 
conditioned  gaunt  Bibleback.  Not  the  same  could  be  said 
of  Dickie,  for  his  injury  turned  out  to  be  an  incurable 
shoulder  lameness,  from  which  he  had  previously  sufiered 
and  been  temporarily  cured  previous  to  my  getting  him. 
When  months  afterwards  I  visited  the  Fort  for  which  my 
buUwhacking  friend  was  bound,  who  should  be  ofiered  to 
me,  as  a  quite  unusually  inviting  bargain,  but  Dickie 
"just  gone  a  bit  lame,"  who,  according  to  the  account  I 
received,  had  made  the  fortune  of  the  whiskey-store  keeper 
by  the  innumerable  **  trade  ^'  drinks  called  forth  by  bis  so 
frequently  changing  hands.  In  the  three  months  that  had 
intervened,  everybody  in  the  Fort  and  the  country  about 
seemed  to  have  owned  him ;  and  when  I  told  the  then 
possessor  that  I  was  the  person  who  had  introduced 
Dickie  to  that  section  of  Wyoming,  he  looked  at  me,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  Now  that  wonH  wash,  Sireebob ;  you 
ain't  clever  enough  for  that — no,  not  by  half,  you  bet.'' 

Boreas's  origin  is,  as  I  have  said,  the  lowest  of  the  low, 
for  out  West  a  bullwhacker's  horse  is  on  a  par  wiih  the 
slowest  "  growler's  "  nag  in  murky  London  streets  ;  and  a 
bullwhacker's  spare  horse  sinks  him  to  a  level  lower  than 
the  costermonger's  much  abused  specimen  of  beasts  born 


Our  Dumb  FHends  in  Camp.  95 

to  a  cruel  and  degenerate  fate.  Notwithstanding  these 
plebeian  connexions,  he  is,  however,  above  price  to  me,  for 
he  has  turned  out  a  jewel  among  shooting-ponies.  His 
endurance,  wind,  surefootedness,  and  a  singularly  deve- 
loped bump  of  locality,  are  beyond  praise ;  and  while  now 
and  again  certain  vices — for  what  strong  character,  either 
human  or  equine,  has  not  some  failings  ? — come  to  the  fore 
in  an  unpleasant  manner,  they  yet  contribute  in  an  in- 
direct way  to  make  him  what  he  is.  He  has  taken  to 
hunting,  as  were  he  "  riz ''  to  it  from  his  earliest  colt-days. 
Game  in  sight,  it  is  wonderful  to  see  how  the  old  fellow 
warms  up  to  his  work,  for  his  speed  has  amazingly  in- 
creased since  those  **  stake-driving  days."  But  it  is  not  on 
the  level  or  broken,  but  on  the  steep  mountain  slopes,  or 
in  the  dense  timber,  that  his  qualities  shine  forth.  I  think 
very  few  horses  have  executed  such  mountaineering  feats 
as  my  old  four-footed  friend,  for  he  has  been  in  places 
where  a  good  many  two-footed  beings  I  know  would  not 
care  to  venture.  If  I  see  game,  and  the  final  approach  has 
to  be  performed  on  foot,  I  slide  from  his  back,  drop  the 
reins  over  his  head,  and  am  off.  Let  me  be  absent  one 
hour  or  ten  hours,  he  will  be  there  when  I  return,  and 
welcome  me  with  that  peculiar,  remarkably  unmusical, 
sawbuck  "  nicker  "  of  his,  by  which  I  could  tell  him  out 
of  a  thousand  horses.  When  I  say  he  will  be  there,  I  must 
except  one  contingency,  the  result  of  his  innate  dislike  to 
grizzly.  If  one  of  that  race  is  about,  then  he  will  not  be 
there ;  but  be  making  good,  stead)'  time  back  to  camp. 
He  does  not  mind  black  or  brown  bear,  and  for  wolves  he 
has  rather  a  liking  ;  but  between  him  and  Uncle  Ephraim 
there  is  no  love  lost.  He  scents  him  at  a  distance  ;  and  the 
wriggle  of  his  body  toss  of  his  head,  and  snort  by  which 


96  Camps  in  the  Ruckles. 

he  testifies  his  discovery,  has  served  on  more  than  one 
occasion  as  a  welcome  signal. 

Some  trappers  manage  to  train  their  hunting-horses  to 
follow  them  about  like  dogs.  In  this  I  have  succeeded 
only  partially,  a  patch  of  good  grazing-ground  upsetting 
all  my  teachings.  Another  peculiarity  is  his  deeply- rooted 
aversion  to  be  packed  with  more  than  a  certain  quantity  of 
game.  With  unvarying  regularity  he  draws  the  line  at 
about  sixty  pounds  ;  so  if  he  already  has  the  hind-quarters 
of  a  bighorn  or  of  a  mule- deer  slung  to  his  saddle,  and  he 
perceives  me  approaching  with  a  fresh  load,  he  just  gives 
one  toss  of  his  head  and  a  swish  of  his  tail,  and,  let  the 
distance  be  half  a  mile  or  ten  miles,  he  proceeds  to  lead 
the  way  home,  his  head  kept  high  so  as  not  to  step  on  the 
reins.  Now  and  again  if  he  is  in  particularly  good 
humour,  and  he  has  perceived  that  I  have  thrown  away 
the  second  load,  he  will,  after  a  mile  or  two,  let  me  regain 
the  saddle,  but  I  cannot  bet  on  that  as  a  certainty;  on  the 
whole,  I  think  I  would  rather  stake  "  a  pile  "  on  the  con- 
trary. In  camp,  when  he  reaches  it,  they  well  know  what 
has  occurred.  If  the  reins  are  fastened  to  the  spring  buckle 
of  which  I  have  already  spoken,  they  know  the  boss  has 
sent  him  home  ;  but  if  they  are  dragging,  and  no  game  fes- 
toons his  saddle,  they  are  informed  that  he  "  struck  bar  ;*' 
while  if  he  is  laden  with  the  usual  hind-quarters,  they 
know  the  boss  has  shot  a  second  beast,  and  will  presently 
appear  very  heated,  and  brimful  of  uncharitableness. 

His  bump  of  locality  is  perhaps  the  most  extraordinary 
of  his  gifts ;  unfortunately  he  only  chooses  to  develop  it 
on  the  home  stretch.  Let  the  distance  be  one  or  thirty 
miles — let  the  ground  be  ever  so  puzzling,  the  rocks  ever 
•o  steep,  the  forest  dense  and  full  of  windfalls  or  treach- 


Our  Dumb  Friends  in  Camp,  97 

eroa^  mire-holes,  the  snow-storm  fierce,  or  the  mountain 
fog  of  pea-soup  consistency,  Boreas  carries  me,  at  day  or 
at  night,  safe  and  sound,  if  he  knows  his  head  is  turned 
homeward.  T'other  way  it  takes,  as  my  men  jokingly 
assert,  three-inch  rowelled  spurs  and  a  three-foot  oak-club ; 
but  that  is  a  sad  exaggeration.  The  only  two  times  I  have 
really  been  lost — once  in  a  very  dense  mountain-fog,  the 
other  time  in  a  bad  snow-storm — was  owing  to  my  doubt- 
ing the  proficiency  of  Boreas*s  path-finding  abilities. 
On  the  first  occasion  I  thought  I  knew  the  way  better 
than  he  did,  for  I  had  been  twice  over  the  ground  on  foot, 
and  he  had  only  been  once  ;  while  the  other  time  I  let  my 
course  be  governed  by  my  compass,  rather  than  by  the  un- 
mistakable pulls  to  one  side  by  which  Boreas  intimated 
his  non-acquiescence  with  the  direction.  As  it  turned  out, 
he  was  right  and  the  compass  wrong,  the  latter  being 
unsettled  by  the  presence  of  large  masses  of  iron  in  the 
rocks.  On  both  occasions  I  spent  the  night  out  at  con- 
siderable altitude,  and  I  can  tell  you  that  now  I  know 
better  than  to  pull  rein  when  once  I  am  on  the  home 
turn. 

Grizzlies,  as  I  have  said,  he  detested,  and  one  of  the 
most  uncomfortable  incidents  of  my  protracted  acquaintance 
with  him  was  caused  by  this  apparently  unprovoked  dis- 
like. I  was  out  after  bighorn,  and  had  left  Boreas  at  the 
base  of  some  steep  cliffs.  On  my  return  six  or  seven  hours 
afterwards,  his  presence,  as  the  Irishman  said,  was  con- 
spicuous by  his  absence.  The  soft  soil  betrayed  the  cause — 
the  tracks  of  an  adult  grizzly.  The  distance  k)  camp  was 
not  very  great,  some  eight  or  nine  miles.  Before  I  reached 
camp  I  heard  signal-shots,*  which  I  promptly  answered  ; 

*  An  advisable  precaution  for  travelling  through  the  wilds  is,  to 

H 


98  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

and  inferring  that  something  serious  had  happened  at  camp, 
I  hastened  down.  I  found  the  men  standing  round  Boreas, 
who  had  reached  camp  in  a  state  considerably  the  worse 
for  a  very  hasty  flight  through  dense  timber  and  rolls  down 
precipitous  slopes,  "  looking/'  as  they  declared,  "  as  if  he 
had  fallen  down  and  trampled  on  his  nose."  He  was 
bruised  all  over,  and  bleeding  from  various  cuts,  and  of 
his  accoutrements  next  to  nothing  was  left.  His  bridle 
was  wrenched  off  short,  his  saddle  blanket  was  gone,  and 
of  the  saddle  absolutely  nothing  left  but  the  cinche,  or 
girth,  and  splinters  of  wood,  and  those  were  astride  of  his 
belly.  Arriving  in  this  sorry  state,  the  men  fancied  some- 
thing had  happened  to  me — that,  in  fact,  I  had  "  gone  up  *' 
in  consequence  of  some  misadventure,  and  hence  were 
greatly  relieved  when,  after  several  ineffectual  signals, 
they  heard  my  answering  shots  just  as  they  were  starting 
out  to  look  for  what  remained  of  me.  We  had  only  one 
spare  saddle  in  the  outfit,  and  that  was  only  the  "  tree  " 
or  frame  of  an  old  Gove»*nment  pack-saddle  one  of  the  boys 
had  traded  from  an  Indian  for  some  "  paints.*'  This  little 
mishap  occurred  in  August,  and  until  the  end  of  November 
I  forked  that  pack-saddle,  which  in  the  course  of  an  after- 
noon the  dexterous  Port  had  supplied  with  the  necessary 
rawhide  loops,  cinche,  and  bearings,  and  two  odd-looking 
stirrups  of  wood.  I  need  not  add  that  it  was  about  the 
hardest,  most  uncomfortable,  and  most  impiety-engendering 
saddle  man  ever  was  astride  of. 

preconcert  some  way  of  signalling.  With  us,  two  shots,  fired  con- 
secutively as  fast  as  possible  (quicker  than  you  would  be  able  to  shoot 
when  aiming),  was  a  signal  that  was  always  to  be  answered  by  all 
who  heard  it.  It  was  only  used  twice  on  the  whole  trip— once  by 
Port,  and  once  by  myself;  but,  nevertheless,  it  is  a  precaution  that, 
in  emergencies,  can  be  of  very  great  help. 


Our  Dumb  Friends  in  Camp.  99 

But  now  I  must  close  Boreas's  record,  for  were  I  to 
give  all  his  adventures  they  would  fill  a  couple  of  chapters. 
Near  him,  on  the  glade  in  front  of  me,  feeds  a  small,  wiry 
mare.  On  her  forehead  she  has  a  large  white  spot,  her  pro- 
file leans  towards  the  Roman,  and  her  eyes  even  in  repose 
betray  that  she's  ''  a  real  mean  cayuse."  Let  me  speak  of 
the  baldfaced  Hattie,  for  that  is  her  name,  as  tenderly  as 
lies  in  human  nature,  for,  alas  !  she  is  no  more,  being  one 
of  last  winter's  victims.  Port  got  her  as  a  perfectly 
unbroken  three-year-old,  trading  her  from  a  Texas  cattle- 
boss,  who  had  j  ust  brought  her  from  her  wild  home.  She 
was  not  even  ''  rope-broken,"  i.e.  accustomed  to  the  rope- 
halter.  To  manage  this  "  breaking  in  "  without  a  **  corral,** 
or  fenced-in  enclosure,  where  this  is  usually  performed, 
would  have  exercised  the  ingenuity  of  one  less  accustomed 
to  handle  unbroken  stock  than  Port  was.  She  was  as  wild 
as  a  fawn,  as  fierce  as  a  young  tiger,  and  her  four  legs, 
when  one  of  her  kicking  tantrums  was  upon  her,  exhibited 
the  agility  of  forty  ordinary  limbs.  But  all  this  was  sub- 
dued by  that  pliant  young  ash  to  which  one  fine  morning 
we  managed  to  lead  her,  tying  one  end  of  the  rawhide 
"lariat,"  or  lasso-rope,  to  the  trunk  of  the  tree  about  eight 
feet  from  the  ground,  while  the  other  was  fastened  round 
her  neck.  Then  casting  loose  the  hawser  by  which  we  had 
hauled  her  up  to  the  tree,  we  sat  down  to  await  the  end. 
It  presently  came :  laying  her  ears  well  back,  and  giving  a 
few  introductory  kicks,  she  dashed  off  at  full  speed.  The 
lariat  was  about  fifty  feet  in  length,  so  that  there  was  ample 
space  to  get  up  speed  by  the  time  she  got  to  the  end  of  the 
tether.  The  tree  bent  like  a  bow,  but  it  held,  and  so  did 
the  rawhide  rope — with  the  result  that  the  mare  "  swapped 
•ndfl/'  ♦.«.  turned  a  clean  summersault,  and  was  laid  flat 

H  2 


roo  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

on  her  back  with  a  good  deal  of  force,  teaching  her  a  well, 
known  cowboy  lesson  no  horse  is  likely  to  forget — if  its 
neck  stands  it.  When  she  regained  her  legs  she  seemed 
the  most  astonished  mare  you  ever  saw,  and  one,  too,  who 
never  again  *'  ran  agin  a  rope." 

She  is  the  only  genuine  "  bucker  " '  in  the  outfit,  and 
she  is  the  only  bond  fide  bucking  horse  that  ever  threw 
me,  and  that  for  the  very  good  reason  that  she  was  the 
only  one  I  ever  bestrode.  The  occurrence  of  my  parting 
company  with  her  happened  in  the  presence  of  a  number 
of  Texas  cowboys,  and  the  event  was  hailed  with  such 
yells  of  mischievous  delight  on  the  part  of  the  bystanders 
as  I  never  shall  forget,  for  your  genuine  cowboy — a 
masterly  rider,  born  in  the  saddle — is  an  unmerciful  critic 
of  horsemanship.  Indeed  they  are  the  only  human  beings, 
I  believe,  who  can  sit  a  horse  that  has  learnt  bucking  in 
Texas,  and  has  not  been  broken  of  it  in  his  youth.  I  do 
not  exactly  know  what  possessed  me  to  mount  the  bald- 
faced  one  that  afternoon ;  anyhow,  I  did  get  on  her,  while 
two  of  the  fellows  held  her.  As  a  London  omnibus  cad 
would  say,  I  was  nearly  "  near  side  up  and  off  side  down.'' 
However,  I  managed  to  stick  to  her  during  the  first  pre- 
liminary flourishes  with  those  forty  legs  of  hers,  after  the 
boys  had  cast  her  loose.  "  She  is  just  a*  feeling  of  you  !  *' 
they  shouted  ;  and  presently  she  settled  down  to  business, 
to  as  fair  and  square  a  spell  at  bucking  as  ever  shook  the 
life  out  of  a  white  man.  Not  being  a  Texan,  or  feeling 
in  me  the  talent  of  gripping  with  my  knees  an  animal 
bow,  I  was  shot  off  at  the  fourth  or  fifth  buck,  delivered, 

■  Bucking  is,  I  believe,  an  endemic  vice  of  Texas — a  circumstance 
Utsilj  explicable  by  the  peculiarities  of  management,  no  less  than  oi 
Burroundings. 


Our  Dumb  Friends  iii*Gamp\:\ ; ,     I12>J,\ 

«s  18  the  wont  of  a  genuinely  "  mean  one/*  witli  lightning- 
like rapidity.  The  movement  of  the  animal  consists  of 
lowering  the  head  between  the  front  legs,  and  suddenly 
arching  the  back,  all  the  muscles  of  which  act  as  so  many 
bowstrings,  the  whole  thing  being  accompanied  by  a  leap* 
into  the  air,  and  coming  down  on  all  four  legs  stiffened 
out  as  were  they  pokers. 

A  few  stray  bucks,  with  intervals  between  each,  are  easy 
enough  to  weather ;  it  is  the  continuance  and  the  amazing 
rapidity  that  accomplish  the  rout  of  riders  not  trained  to 
such  horses  from  youth.  The  first  buck,  lifting  you  perhaps 
only  a  couple  of  inches  from  the  pigskin,  shakes  you ;  the 
second,  following  so  quickly  as  hardly  to  leave  you  time  to 
ascertain  that  the  first  is  over,  puzzles  you;  the  third 
makes  you  lose  your  balance ;  the  fourth  pitches  and  tosses 
you ;  and  the  fifth  accomplishes  the  brute's  design,  namely, 
dumping  you  off.  My  performance — to  revert  to  a  sore 
subject — was  greeted  with  endless  laughter  and  loud 
shouts,  *'Stay  with  her,  boss  ;  stay  with  her.'*  And  when 
finally  I  left  her,  '*  I  landed,"  as  the  boys  said,  "  kinder 
squarely  /'  "  I  hurt  the  ground,"  "  I  was  rough  on  the 
bunch  grass,**  *'  I  tried  to  make  a  hole  in  the  earth,**  and 
other  suchlike  humorous  expressions  greeting  my  ears 
when  I  could  again  hear,  for  the  violence  of  my  fall  had 
very  nearly  shaken  out  of  me  the  few  little  senses  I  had 
left.  The  next  minute  there  was  recorded  in  my  neigh- 
bourhood a  solemn  vow,  that  has  not  been  broken  since, 
and  I  doubt  if  that  same  person  will  ever  share  the  fate 
set  forth  on  a  wooden  cross  at  the  head  of  a  lonely 
Western  grave,  of 

"  Willf-am  Jake  Hall, 
Qot  1  buck  and  a  fallt 


t^x  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

Killed  dead  as  a  Slug, 
By  a  Texas  Plug. 
Bom  in  Georgy, 
*48  Anne  Domini.** 

Breaking  a  horse  of  bucking  is,  as  a  profession,  about 
one  of  the  most  riskful  ones  that  exist,  and  few  pro- 
fessionals attain  mature  age.  The  wages  are  very  high, 
and  only  quite  young  men  are  able  to  withstand  the 
terrible  shaking,  few  of  them  being  able  to  continue 
longer  than  a  few  months  at  a  time.  The  first  organs  to 
suffer  are  the  lungs,  spitting  of  blood  being,  as  I  am  told, 
the  invariable  result  of  this  vocation.  There  are  two  ways, 
I  understand,  of  sitting  a  bucking  horse  ;  tersely  rendered, 
the  one  is  to  "  follow  the  buck,"  the  other  to  '*  receive 
the  buck."  Both  have  warm  adherents,  though  I  cer- 
tainly met  more  "  followers  "  than  "  receivers,"  a  circum- 
stance I  can  perfectly  understand,  for  the  strain  upon  the 
rider's  body  of  the  latter  process  must  be  terrific. 

My  first  acquaintance  with  the  wayward  temper  of  the 
baldfaced  one  was  made  three  years  ago  in  a  steep  can- 
yon, the  very  precipitous  slopes  of  which  left  hardly  room  for 
a  two  or  three  feet  trail  to  pass  up  its  long  course.  Right 
in  the  middle  of  it,  on  about  the  worst  spot,  something 
suddenly  went  wrong  with  her,  the  precise  nature  of  which 
we  never  had  a  chance  of  discovering.  It  was  enough, 
however,  to  make  her  "  light  into  bucking."  The  first  thing 
I  saw  was  a  two-pound  tobacco  canister,  followed  by  my 
tooth-brush  and  sponge-bag,  describing  a  graceful  parabola 
down  the  dizzy  depth  of  the  gorge — for  unfortunately  my 
"  hold-all,"  carelessly  fastened,  was  part  of  the  bald-faced 
one's  load — where  they  of  course  were  lost  to  me.  Buck 
followed  buck,  the  vixen  very  highly  enjoying  the  fun, 


Our  Dumb  Friends  in  Camp,  103 

vastly  increased  by  the  security  of  her  position.  Neither 
of  the  men  at  the  head  or  at  the  end  of  the  long  file  of 
horses  could  approach  her  on  account  of  the  narrowness  of 
the  trail ;  till  finally  Port,  by  wriggling  past  the  legs  of 
the  horses  ahead,  did  manage  at  considerable  risk  to  ap- 
proach her.  It  was  high  time ;  a  few  more  bucks,  and 
the  rest  of  my  "  duds  "  would  have  followed  the  canister. 
Fortunately  I  had  a  spare  tooth-brush,  otherwise  this 
disaster  might  have  been  of  overwhelming  consequences. 

To  our  other  friends  I  cannot  devote  as  much  space. 
There,  near  the  vixenish  Hattie,  stands  Kate,  a  good- 
natured,  old-maidenish  mare,  exhibiting,  when  "bar"  are 
about,  not  unreasonable  nervousness,  for  she  has  a  "  game  " 
leg.  She  demonstrated  to  me  once  how  great  things  can 
come  of  little  beginnings.  With  her  lame  leg  she  started 
a  stone,  which  rolled  down  a  slope,  the  stone  started  a 
grizzly,  the  grizzly  started  a  very  formidable  growl,  the 
growl  started  Boreas,  and  Boreas  not  only  started  himself, 
but  the  whole  band  of  horses,  causing  a  disastrous  stam- 
pede. Kate  is  full  of  character ;  she  does  not  like  to  be 
petted,  and  resents  kindly  pats  with  lightning-like  kicks, 
delivered  with  unerring  aim. 

Close  to  her,  under  the  far-reaching  sweep  of  a  pine, 
stand  the  two  clowns  of  the  party,  "  Bigbelly  "  and  '^  All- 
eat,"  both  horses  of  mature  age  and  mature  humour,  but 
most  lively  temperaments.  No  trail  is  too  wide  that  they 
do  not  manage  to  find  a  handy  tree  against  which  to 
"  snag  "  their  packs,  no  stream  too  shallow  for  them  to 
tumble  down  and  duck  their  loads,  no  meadow  bottom  so 
dry  that  they  cannot  find  mire-holes  in  which  to  get 
''stalled,^'  no  descending  slope  too  gentle  to  offer  them  wel- 
come opportunity  to  reach  the  bottom  "  ended  over,^^  as 


i04  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

Western  vernacular  typifies  a  state  of  general  head-over- 
heelisliness ;  no  ascent  so  gradual  that  their  pack-saddlea 
cannot  be  wriggled  back,  giving  them  the  necessary  excuse 
for  a  headlong  stampede  into  the  densest  brush  or  timber 
they  can  find  ;  and  finally,  no  chance  is  ever  lost  by  either 
to  indulge  in  a  five  minutes*  spell  at  "bucking."  There 
they  stand,  in  looks  meek  and  submissive,  the  head  of 
one  close  to  the  tail  of  the  other — an  arrangement  more 
ingenious  than  you  would  think  at  the  first  glance,  for  it 
enables  them  to  whisk  the  troublesome  flies  ofi"  each  other's 
heads. 

There,  not  far  from  "Old  John,"  another  victim  of 
last  winter,  stand  the  Sorrel  Mare  and  the  Bay  Mare,  as  a 
rule  patient,  good-natured  brutes,  though  neither  can  bear 
matters  going  wrong  with  their  packs.  Further  off  are 
"Whitie,"  an  Indian  pony  who  can  buck,  and  the  ''Bessie 
Mare  "  who  can  not^  but  who  is  a  remarkably  fast  half-bred 
— American  cross-bred  with  Texan — animal,  who,  hence, 
comes  in  for  all  the  quick  work.  Poor  thing !  she  too  fell 
victim  to  the  severity  of  that  unprecedented  winter.  The 
remaining  three  or  four  horses,  being  possessed  of  no 
special  characteristics,  I  shall  leave  to  oblivion. 

I  cannot  close  this  chapter  on  dumb  friends  without 
some  short  notice  of  dumb  foes  in  camp.  Conspicuous 
among  them  are  two  much-abused  pests  of  the  upland 
plains  of  Wyoming,  Idaho,  and  Montana,  i.e.  rattle- 
snakes and  skunks.  The  former  have  given  their  name  to 
a  considerable  range  of  high  hills  in  Central  Wyoming ; 
but  these  Rattlesnake  Mountains,  across  which  I  passed 
on  this  as  well  as  on  a  previous  occasion,  hardly  deserve 
their  notoriety,  for  there  are  other  portions  of  the  West 
far    more    deserving    the    name.     Once    I  was    camped 


Our  Dumb  Friends  in  Camp,  105 

for  many  weeks  among  these  hills,  and  saw  not  more 
than  about  a  dozen  rattlers,  all  told.  They  are  in 
reality,  notwithstanding  their  fatal  fangs,  as  it  is  needless 
to  tell  those  who  know  them  from  personal  experience, 
very  harmless  beasts,  when  once  you  know  their  manner 
of  attack  and  the  sound  of  the  rattle  that  always  pre- 
cedes their ''  striking/'  as  the  act  of  precipitating  is  called. 
It  is  a  noise  not  at  all  like  what  you  expect  it  to  be.  I 
had  never  heard  it  in  my  life  before  visiting  these  hills, 
and  it  was  only  owing  to  this  circumstance  that  I  had  a 
sufficiently  narrow  escape.  For  the  warning  of  others  I 
may  relate  it,  though  there  is  nothing  in  the  least  sen- 
sational about  it,  but  on  the  contrary  a  good  deal  of  the 
ludicrous.  I  was  out  after  some  Bighorn,  and  by  hand-over- 
hand climbing  had  ascended  an  excessively  steep  "  knife- 
back  ''  cliff  of  moderate  height.  The  top,  of  amazing 
sharpness,  whence  I  hoped  to  get  a  good  look  at  the  slope 
on  the  other  side  of  the  ridge,  was  as  jagged  as  a  saw, 
offering  a  good  chance  to  peep  over  without  yourself  being 
seen.  I  had  gained  one  of  these  craggy  indentures  by 
wriggling  up  to  it  in  serpent  fashion.  Very  intent  upon 
sport,  I  had  raised  my  head  to  peep  over,  when  close  to  my 
right  ear  I  heard  a  peculiar  sound.  For  the  first  second  I 
paid  no  attention  to  it,  but  eagerly  scanned  the  precipitous 
slope  on  the  other  side.  Something,  I  don't  know  exactly 
what,  made  me  turn  my  head ;  and  there,  on  a  level  with 
my  face,  not  fifteen  inches  off  lay  coiled  on  a  protruding 
slab  of  rock  a  moderate-sized  snake,  her  head  raised,  and 
"  forked  lightning ''  playing.*     I  did  not  know  it  was  a 

•  The  rattlesnake  (Croialine  Ana)  prefers  arid  wastes.  It  has 
recently  been  found  that  this  animal  can  do  almost  entirely  without 
water.     Mr.  Stradling  writes  of  it : — "  During  eleven  months  that  I 


io6  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

rattlesnake;  nor  was  I  aware  that  the  position,  with  the 
head  raised  high  and  curved  back,  is  the  one  to  be  dreaded 
most,  inasmuch  as  it  immediately  precedes  the  *'  striking." 

The  beast,  however,  looked  so  venomous  that  instinctively 
I  instantly  ducked  my  head,  and  threw  myself  to  one  side ; 
and  the  snake,  who  at  that  moment  struck,  of  course 
overshot  the  mark.  My  movement  was,  however,  so 
violent  and  unpremeditated  that  I  lost  my  foothold,  and 
not  being  able  to  regain  it  I  rolled  down  the  entire  cliff. 
It  is  decidedly  nicer  to  write  about  than  to  undergo  such  a 
roll,  for  the  height,  some  forty  or  fifty  yards,  was  sufficient 
to  land  me  at  the  bottom  a  sorely  bruised  being,  "  feeling 
funny  bones  all  over."  The  rifle,  which  was  cocked,  had 
fared  much  better,  for  somehow  on  such  occasions  the 
thought  instantly  flashes  across  one's  mind  that  much 
more  depends  upon  keeping  whole  your  rifle  than  your 
skin.  Mischief  to  the  latter  can  be  remedied,  and  in  the 
wondrously  invigorating  Western  air,  sores  and  wounds  of 
every  kind  heal  remarkably  quickly  ;  but  damage  to  your 
trusty  friend,  if  at  all  of  a  serious  nature,  means  ruin. 

I  well  remember  how  among  the  "  boys  "  I  once  raised 
a  great  laugh,  a  laugh  whose  mocking  intensity  is  still 
ringing  in  my  ears,  by  this  very  instinctive  carefulness. 
"We  were  going  through  some  very  broken  country,  and 
were  ascending  a  precipitous  slope,  by  a  game  trail  that 
went  zigzag  up  its  face.  Port,  with  four  or  five  of  the 
horses,  was  ahead,  I  being  in  the  centre,  leading  "Boreas," 
or  rather,  I  walking  ahead  and  he  following  me,  while 

have  had  a  rattlesnake  under  close  observation,  it  has  shed  its  cuticle 
four  times  ;  has  eaten  fifty  or  sixty  large  rats  ....  is  now  four  feet 
eight  inches  long ;  but  during  the  whole  time  it  has  never  drunk  watei 
Dor  bathed.'* 


Our  Du7nb  Friends  in  Camp.  107 

close  up  behind  us  came  the  rest  of  the  horses  and  men. 
Those  in  front  were  just  getting  out  of  my  sight,  when 
suddenly  I  heard  a  shout  ahead,  and  looking  up  saw 
''  Baldfaced  Hattie  "  charging  down  the  narrow  trail 
as  fast  as  she  could  come ;  both  her  side  packs,  con- 
taining pots  and  pans,  were  off,  and  dragging  behind 
her.  Down  she  came,  snorting  with  terror  at  the  jingle 
and  rattle  of  the  pans.  If  ever  I  saw  a  "  stampeded 
mare  with  a  teakettle  tied  to  her  tail  *^  it  was  the  terror- 
stricken  baldfaced  one.  A  collision  was  inevitable,  for 
the  trail  was  not  broader  than  a  couple  of  feet  or  so, 
having  on  the  one  side  a  declivity  which  was  almost  a 
precipice,  on  the  other  an  overhanging  bank  some  four 
or  five  feet  in  height,  merging  into  a  very  steep  upward 
slope,  on  which  stood,  four  or  five  yards  higher  up,  a 
weatherbeaten  cedar,  which  notwithstanding  the  steep  angle 
had  managed  to  strike  root.  One  thing  or  the  other  had 
to  be  done,  and  that  quickly,  for  when  I  saw  the  mare  she 
was  not  more  than  ten  yards  off.  I  decided  for  the  upward 
slope ;  and  as  I  happened  to  have  my  rifle  in  my  hand, 
where  it  hampered  me  least,  my,  as  I  suppose  very  frantic- 
looking  leap  up  the  bank,  was  successful ;  another  hop  and 
a  stride  and  I  had  reached  the  tree.  But  just  as  I  was 
about  to  turn  round  in  order  to  witness  the  collision 
between  Boreas  and  Hattie,  I  felt  the  soft  clay-like 
ground  give  way  under  my  feet,  and  I  had  the  sensation 
of  slipping  back.  A  frantic  clutch  I  made  for  the  tree 
was  too  late ;  I  broke  my  nails,  but  could  not  stay  my 
backsliding.  Next  I  dug  the  stock  of  my  rifle  deep  into 
the  soft  soil ;  it  stopped  me  for  a  tenth  of  a  second,  but  no 
more,  for  the  whole  bank  seemed  to  be  sliding  under  my 
feet.    At  that  moment  the  safety  of  my  faithful  arm  flashed 


io8  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

across  my  mind,  and  feeling  it  securely  imbedded  in  the  soil, 
I  relinquished  my  grip  on  it,  and  leaving  it  standing  there 
upright  as  a  sentinel,  I  went  back  and  back,  and  finally 
over  the  bank,  landing  on  my  back  right  between  the 
forefeet  of  the  two  collided  horses.  How  I  got  out 
between  the  plunging  and  rearing  beasts  with  whole 
bones  I  know  not ;  I  did,  however,  and  was  greeted  by 
a  never-ending  roar  of  facetious  Western  laughter.  My 
leap  up  the  bank  was  declared  to  be  the  biggest  thing 
they  had  ever  laid  eyes  on,  "  doggarned  well  worth  while 
crossing  the  staked  plains  to  see."  While  other  questions 
purporting  kind  inquiries  "  why  I  had  not  stayed  with 
the  rifle  ? "  whether  1  *'  was  scared  at  the  tree  ? "  or 
whether  I  "  thought  the  mare  would  eat  me  ?  '*  were  put 
to  me  by  the  two  most  uproarious  of  my  audience,  a 
couple  of  starved  cowboys  we  had  accidentally  met,  and 
who  for  several  days  previously  had  drunk  of  my  coffee 
and  eaten  my  bread — the  latter,  however,  not  of  my  baking, 
for  then  I  should  have  excused  them  as  madmen.  The 
"  boss's  thundering  big  jump  "  remained  a  favourite  joke 
for  several  days. 

Of  skunks — an  animal  in  shape  like  a  big  polecat, 
with  a  very  bushy  tail — a  multitude  of  amusing  stories 
could  be  told,  for  the  Plainsman  is  generally  brimful 
of  tales  of  the  **  Essence  pedlar  ;'*  and  all  the  ingenuity 
of  Western  humour  is  expended  upon  the  building  up 
of  *'  good  stories,"  that  often  bid  fair  to  outrival  the 
notorious  bear  stories,  not  only  in  the  way  of  facts  but 
also  in  humorousness.  Leaving  them  to  the  frontiersman 
to  tell — for  nobody  narrates  them  better — I  desire  to  advert 
to  a  more  serious  matter,  namely,  the  wide-spread  belief 
in  the  West  that  the   bite  of  the  skunk  produces  hydro- 


Our  Dumb  Friends  in  Camp.  109 

phobia,  and  hence  is  usually  attended  by  fatal  results,  an 
exaggeration  of  certain  facts  which  is  apt  to  inflict  very 
needlessly  deadly  terror  upon  persons  who  have  had  the 
mischance  of  being  bitten  by  one  of  these  pestiferous  little 
brutes.^ 

Nobody  who  has  ever  watched  a  skunk  is  likely  to  forget 
the  peculiar  mincing  step  and  leisurely  zigzag  course  by 
which  he  retreats,  till  finally,  when  attacked,  suddenly 
asserting  himself,  and  raising  the  hinder  parts,  with  the 
tail  elevated  over  the  back  so  that  the  long  silken  hair 
heretofore  trailing  in  one  direction  falls  in  a  'tuft  on  all 
sides,  the  sense  of  smell  immediately  indicates  the 
flagrant  fragrance.  According  to  Audubon,  the  skunk 
can  squirt  his  terrible  scent  a  distance  of  fourteen  feet ; 
and  though  the  animal  is  very  particular  not  to  soil  his 
own  pelt,  he  generally  is  the  very  first  to  retreat,  if  retreat 
is  possible. 

Lacking  the  chief  qualities  of  other  Mustelidae — ^the 
sagacity  and  prowess  of  the  wolverine,  the  scansorial 
ability  of  the  marten,  the  agility  of  the  weasel,  the 
aqueous  accomplishments  of  the  otter,  and  the  fossorial 
capacity  of  the  badger,  its  nearest  relation — ^it  is  evident 
that  the  tardy  skunk,  of  little  strength  and  spirit,  had 
to  be  distinguished  by  additional  means  of  self-defence. 

'  Of  this  T  am  able  to  gpeak  from  experience,  having  on  my  first 
trip  to  the  Bocky  Mountains  been  bitten  by  a  skunk,  and  having  had 
for  more  than  a  year  the  ever-present  dread  of  possible  inoculation  of 
that  most  horrible  of  diseases,  hydrophobia,  hanging  over  me.  It  is 
entirely  owing  to  khis  circumstance  that  I  have  since  taken  pains  to 
collect  authentic  information,  and  also  to  examine  all  available  scientifio 
records  on  rabies  generally — the  results  of  which  I  have  endeavoured 
to  embody  in  a  few  pages  in  the  Appendix,  as  being  a  subject,  I  fancy, 
which  can  interest  but  those  about  to  visit  the  West. 


I  lo  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

That  his  wonderful  audacity  and  confidence  in  the  terriblo 
weapon,  of  which  he  makes  use  with  startling  assurance 
and  accuracy,  is  not  misplaced,  is  proved  by  the  large 
number  of  skunks  in  certain  districts. 

Skunks  are,  as  is  well  known,  by  no  means  shy  animals. 
They  are  generally  about  at  night,  and  will  enter  human 
habitations  with  surprising  temerity.  An  old  prospector, 
''  French  Louy,"  whom  I  met  in  the  Rattlesnake  Hills, 
a  great  place  for  skunks,  had  a  pet  one  who  used  to 
sleep  in  the  bunk  at  his  feet  very  nearly  every  night. 
The  cabin  was  so  strongly  scented  that  we  smelt  it  a  little 
distance  off;  indeed,  as  it  was  night,  and  none  of  us  had 
ever  been  to  the  place,  we  were  guided  to  it  by  the  per- 
fume, for  we  had  already  heard  of  this  strangest  of  pets. 
The  old  fellow,  a  great  character  in  his  way,  was  rather 
hurt  at  our  objections  to  the  scent.  "  He  no  stink ;  he 
smell  just  sufficement  to  know  he  is  dar  \'*  and  when  I 
informed  him  that  I  quite  believed  it,  he  rejoined  with 
his  favourite  oath,  "  Soup  de  Bouillon  Almightee  !  why-for 
do  you  come  here  if  you  are  so  par-tic-u-laire?" 

As  a  warning  to  those  unacquainted  with  the  West, 
I  may  mention,  that  skunks  evince  a  special  predilection 
for  bacon.  Indeed,  I  am  convinced  I  have  to  ascribe 
the  bite  to  which  I  have  already  alluded  to  this 
circumstance.  My  hands  having  been  blistered  by 
the  dry  heat  and  by  a  very  hard-mouthed  brute  of  a 
horse,  I  had,  failing  all  other  species  of  grease,  applied 
some  bacon  fat  to  the  sore  places,  drawing  on  a  pair  of 
gloves  before  turning  in  under  my  robe.  One  of  the 
skunks  had  evidently  winded  the  enticing  scent  of  the 
bacon ;  and  finding  one  of  my  hands,  covered  by  a 
glove^   outside    the  robe,    had  given    it    a    hearty    nip 


Our  Dumb  Friends  in  Camp,  1 1 1 

Long  before  I  was  fully  aroused,  and  had  whipped  out 
my  six-shooter  from  under  my  saddle -pillow,  the  enemy 
had  scuttled  off,  his  vanishing  form  dimly  visible  in 
the  moonlight  semi-darkness.  The  previous  night  three 
skunks  had  walked  off  with  a  good-sized  piece  of  bacon, 
which  had  been  left  lying  in  a  dish  on  the  ground. 

Many  people  have  a  great  terror  of  skunks,  a  fear  in- 
stilled into  them  by  tall  stories.  I  once  travelled  with 
such  a  personage,  a  countryman,  who  had  been  stuffed 
up  with  Western  tales ;  and  our  camp,  as  long  as  we 
were  in  the  skunk  regions,  was  nightly  the  scene  of  reck- 
less revolver  practice  and  bad  language.  His  shots  at  the 
vanishing  enemy,  fired  a  few  feet  from  my  ear,  now  and 
again  woke  me  (I  am  a  very  sound  sleeper),  but  of 
course  always  too  late  to  prevent  the  invariable  result — ■ 
an  answering  discharge,  far  more  terrible  and  fatal  than 
my  friend's  nervous  aim.  If  the  skunk  is  not  alarmed  or 
frightened  off,  he  will  presently  wander  away,  a  compara- 
tively very  faint  perfume  being  all  that  he  leaves  behind 
him— for  ht  only  fires  as  a  means  of  self-defence. 


112  Camps  in  tlie  Rockies* 


CHAPTER  T. 

CAMPS  AMONG   WAPITI. 

Our  great  hunger — Appeasing  it  by  four  bulls — Their  stalk — Earlj 
snow-stoim — My  great  head — His  home  and  his  death— Stag-lore 
—My  first  Wapiti — My  young  guide  and  his  family — Male  and 
female  market  hunters — A  natural  game  park — Unsophisticated 
game — Moonlight  stalking. 

In  a  previous  chapter  reference  was  made  to  a  hungry 
sixteen  days,  eventually  brought  to  a  pleasant  termination 
by  a  successful  Wapiti  hunt.*  Let  me  introduce  this 
chapter  on  sport  with  an  account  of  that  memorable  stalk — 
for  memorable  I  must  call  it,  to  do  justice  to  certain  ante- 
cedent features.  Camped  on  a  delightful  glade  in  the  last 
belt  of  timber,  where  we  had  ineffectually  sought  refuge 
from  mosquitoes,  and  where  our  worn-out  horses  could 
recruit  on  the  best  of  mountain  grasses,  the  morning  of 
the  13th  of  August  was  just  dawning,  when  our  camp-fire 
burst  into  brilliant  flames,  shedding  round  it  a  circle  of 
grateful  warmth,  of  which  four  shivering,  hungry  human 
beings,  with  strangely  disfigured  faces  (one  of  my  eyes, 
fortunately  my  left  one,  was  entirely  closed  by  a  bite  or 

*  Wapiti  are  called  elk  out  West ;   and  the  stag  is  spoken  of  as  a 
•*  bull " — both  anti-phraseological  instances. 


Camps  among  Wapiti,  113 

filing  more  than  commonly  poisonous)  are  not  slow  to 
take  advantage.  I  am  probably  tbe  warmest  of  the  lot,  for 
I  have  just  returned  from  an  invigorating,  though  very 
brief,  dip  in  a  beaver  pool  close  by,  over  which  the  frost 
during  the  night  has  cast  a  film  of  ice.  A  rub  down 
with  a  rough  towel  has  brought  out  a  glorious  glow,  but 
alas !  has  also  roused  to  outrageous  keenness  that  old 
man  hunger  of  which  I  have  already  so  bitterly  com- 
plained. Hands  are  rubbed  very  vigorously ;  and  in 
Government  terms  the  men  stigmatize  the  depravity  of 
that  '*  doggarned  water  in  the  camp  bucket,  friz  up  like 
a  Mormon's  tongue  when  you  ask  him  how  many  wives 
he's  got.*'  At  last  the  coffee  is  steaming  in  our  cups,  and 
a  huge  pile  of  bread,  the  result  of  three  bakings,  is  heaped 
on  the  waterproof -sheet  —our  ordinary  table-cloth — spread 
on  the  sward  as  near  as  possible  to  the  fire.  We  have 
**  put  ourselves  outside  "  of  that  pile,  and  four  cups  of  coffee 
each,  long  before  the  sun  has  topped  the  "  sawback " 
ridge  overhead.  Having  settled  each  man's  rayon  for  tho 
day's  sport,  we  are  off  in  good  time.  TV"e  all  mean  business, 
you  bet ;  and  there  won't  be  any  careless  shooting,  you 
can  stake  your  hair  on  that.  Henry,  with  his  huge  smooth- 
bore double-barrelled  gun — stock,  locks,  and  barrels  held 
together  by  cunning  rawhide  fastenings,  is  to  take  the 
lowest  level,  where  there  is  thick  covert  and  a  chance 
of  Muledeer.  Port  with  his  Winchester,  and  Edd  with 
his  Sharp  rifle,  take  the  right ;  while  to  my  choice  falls  the 
left  slope  of  the  great  chain  on  which,  close  to  Timberline, 
we  are  camped. 

I  am  in  light  climbing  order — a  flannel  blouse- shirt, 
my  cartridge-belt  and  field-glasses  round  my  waist 
and  shoulders,  a  chunk  of  bread  of  yesterday's  baking, 


114  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

a  favourite  author  in  cheap  waistcoat-pocket  edition,  and 
a  pair  of  moccasins  in  my  "  riicksack/*  ^  complete  my 
usual  outfit  when  hunting  on  foot.  The  rocks  overhead 
are  of  wonderfully  bizarre  formation.  Partly  of  volcauio 
origin,  they  are  piled  over  each  other  in  the  most  grotesque 
and  Titanic  disorder  imaginable.  There  are  great  piUars 
500  feet  high,  at  their  base  considerably  smaller  than 
further  up.  Some  of  the  cliffs  look  like  the  battlemented 
walls  of  a  Norman  keep,  sorely  battered  by  time.  Over  all 
rise  the  tops  of  two  peaks,  the  highest  in  this  district, 
quite  3000  feet  above  my  standpoint. 

The  air  is  marvellously  light,  but  as  it  is  my  first  day 
this  season  in  high  altitudes,  the  exceedingly  rarefied 
atmosphere  tells,  after  a  couple  of  hours'  climb,  upon  my 
strides  ;  I  stop  oftener — to  admire  the  view,  and  my  pipe 
requires  more  care  than  does  commonly  that  inseparable 
companion.  The  field-glasses  are  constantly  in  use,  but 
not  a  sign  of  living  being  can  I  descry.  In  another  hour's 
ramble  I  have  reached  the  first  patches  of  last  winter's 
snow,  firm  wet?e-like  masses  that  fill  the  steep  ravines. 
Yonder  is  a  great  projecting  rock,  from  which  I  hope  to 
get  a  good  view  of  the  whole  slope.  And  half  an  hour 
later,  by  dint  of  some  hand-over-hand  and  knee-over-knee 
climbing,  I  have  reached  my  place  of  outlook.  Of  the 
view  that  burst  on  my  eyes,  splendid  in  its  vastness,  I  will 
not  speak.  The  crag,  quite  detached  from  the  main 
mass  of  mountains,  flanks  on  one  side  a  pass  like  de- 
pression in  the  great  chain,  while  on  the  other  three 
sides  it  falls  off  in  stupendous  precipices.     A  large  snow- 

*  A  canvas  game-bag,  carried  by  two  straps,  not  unlike  a  knap- 
sack ;  its  weight  bearing  more  on  the  small  of  the  back.  It  is  a  most 
useful  article  ;  when  empty  it  can  be  stuffed  into  your  pocket,  while  it 
will  hold  a  buck  chamois  or  roed^er.    See  Appendix. 


Camps  among  Wapiti.  115 

field,  painfully  glittering  in  the  brilliant  sun,  ©overs  the 
pass,  but  as  I  fancy  it  is  an  unlikely  place  for  game,  I 
confine  my  scrutiny  to  the  rocky  slopes  that  stretch  away 
on  both  sides  of  me  for  many  miles.  The  heat  and  still- 
ness is  oppressive,  for  even  the  breeze  has  died  away — an 
unusual  circumstance  in  the  morniug— while  the  sky  has 
assumed  a  peculiar  purple  tinge.  Hours  pass,  as,  stretched 
out  in  a  comfortable  sprawling  attitude  on  the  top,  just 
sufficiently  large  to  permit  me  occupying  this  spread-eagle 
pose,  I  keep  scanning  the  cliffs  for  Bighorn,  the  only  game 
I  expect  to  find  at  this  great  altitude.  When  my  eyes  get 
tired  of  peering  through  the  powerful  glasses,  my  book 
comes  in  very  handily.  For  more  than  an  hour  I  have 
not  turned  my  head  in  the  direction  of  the  snow-field  at 
my  back.  What  is  therefore  my  astonishment  when,  on 
happening  to  wriggle  round  so  as  to  see  down  to  the  snow, 
I  perceive  quite  a  band  of  animals  on  it.  "  Bighorn,  by 
Jove  V^  I  exclaim.  "  But  no  ;  by  all  that's  green  they  are 
Wapiti/'  for  I  can  plainly  see  the  antlers.  The  pipe  is 
consigned  to  the  pocket,  the  little  volume  returns  to  the 
rucksack,  and  my  heavy  stalking-boots  are  replaced  by 
the  noiseless  moccasins. 

The  distance  is  about  half  or  three  quarters  of  a  mile, 
air-line  ;  but  I  have  to  take  a  great  round ;  and  the  slope 
up  which  I  have  to  run  is  steep,  and  the  air  rarefied  to  a 
trying  extent.  Fortunately  no  extra  clothing  handicaps 
my  movements  ;  and,  as  a  Westerner  once  remarked  after 
watching  me — from  a  safe  place — making  the  best  of  time 
towards  a  handy  tree  with  a  crippled  bear  after  me,  I 
am  "  all  legs,  with  elbows  for  handles."  On  reaching  the 
lower  extremity  of  the  snowfield,  where  a  rivulet,  formed 
by  the  melting  of  the  snow,  has  worn  a  great  cavern  in 

I  2 


2 16  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

the  nevSy  I  come  to  a  halt.  *'  If  they  have  stopped  fof 
an  hour,  they  will  wait  another  ten  minutes,'*  I  think-— 
and  there  is  too  much  at  stake  to  risk  mischance.  So  I 
pause  for  a  moment,  to  regain  my  wind,  and  bathe  my 
temple  and  wrists  with  the  refreshingly  cool  ice- water. 
A  singular  change  has  come  over  the  sky,  where  great 
banks  of  most  threatening-looking  clouds — the  first  I  have 
seen  for  many  weeks — have  appeared.  The  wind,  too, 
which  out  West  is  so  singularly  steady,  has  sprung  up, 
but  from  the  wrong  quarter,  and  presently  it  begins  to 
blow  big  guns.  No  time  is  to  be  lost.  So,  with  a  final 
look  at  my  rifle,  I  begin  a  tedious  stalk  up  the  snow. 
Fortunately,  a  recent  landslip  from  the  crag  I  occupied 
has  sent  numerous  fragments  of  rock  down  the  slope,  where 
they  lie  deeply  imbedded  in  the  drift,  thus  affording  me 
some  little  cover.  That  most  momentous  question,  whether 
the  stags  are  still  there,  is  filUng  me  with  anxiety,  for  since 
leaving  the  rock  I  have  had  no  opportunity  to  see  the 
upper  extremity  of  the  neve  where  they  were,  but  have 
worked  my  way  solely  by  certain  landmarks.  Now  I  must 
be  close  to  them  ;  and  a  boulder  larger  than  the  rest,  pro- 
truding two  feet  over  the  snow,  is  as  good  a  place  as  any 
for  a  cautious  survey  of  the  ground.  Slowly,  very  slowly, 
I  raise  my  head  over  the  stone,  and  presently  catch  sight 
of  the  tips  of  a  pair  of  antlers,  moving  to-and-fro, 
apparently  not  more  than  five-and- thirty  yards  off.  Glo- 
rious view  !  But  how  unsteady  my  hands  have  suddenly 
got ;  and  what  uncommon  vigour  is  manifested  by  my 
heart,  as  if  I  had  not  previously  seen  thousands  of  the 
noble  game  ?  But  it  is  that  venomous  old  hunger  which 
has  wrecked  my  nerves,  making  them  a  prey  to  my 
unsportsman-like  thoughts  of  steaming  pots  that  float  with 


Camps  among  Wapiti,  117 

fairylike  vraisemhlance  before  my  eyes;  proving,  to  use 
the  words  of  an  American,  to  whom  I  afterwards  related 
the  episode,  *'  how  quickly  the  optical  waves  were  pro- 
pelled inward  to  the  seat  of  hungry  war,  to  return  to  the 
protoplasm  of  intellect  freighted  with  rejuvenating  culinary 
dreams  I  "  Turning  on  my  back,  I  take  from  my  belt  a 
dozen  or  so  of  cartridges,  which,  after  blowing  the  snow 
off,  are  placed  in  my  stalking  cap,  on  the  stone  in  front  of 
me.  With  the  rifle  to  my  shoulder,  I  raise  myself  slowly 
to  a  standing  position — the  only  one  enabling  me  to  see 
the  animals.  With  eager  eyes  I  scan  the  ground.  There 
they  are,  fifteen  or  twenty  lordly  Wapiti,  mostly  bulls, 
standing  and  lying  about,  some  feeding  on  the  sparse 
blades  on  the  border  of  the  snowfield,  others  couched 
in  a  state  of  repose  on  the  cooling  snow. 

Though  so  close,  none  but  a  hind  has  seen  the  strange 
apparition ;  so  while  she  is  staring  stupidly  at  me,  I  have 
an  instant's  respite  to  pick  out  good  heads.  One  big  old 
bull,  about  forty  yards  off,  gets  the  first  greeting.  Need 
I  say  that,  all  the  aiming  I  have  in  me,  is  put  into  that 
shot  P  The  second  barrel  is  turned  on  another  a  few  yards 
further  off.  While  the  former  has  fallen  in  his  tracks, 
the  latter  receives  the  fire  without  making  a  single  sign 
that  he  is  hit ;  but  I  am  pretty  confident  of  my  shot ;  so 
after  reloading,  which  I  do  without  taking  my  eyes  ofl 
the  herd,  who  now,  after  the  first  mementos  spell-bound 
terror,  are  in  the  act  of  making  off,  fire  is  opened  on  a 
third  and  fourth  victim.  Both  are  hit,  but  very  indiffer- 
ently, and  they  continue  their  flight :  four  or  five  shots 
more  have  to  be  expended  before  they  are  my  meat.  All 
this  time  the  second  stag  is  standing  there,  erect,  and 
apparently  unhurt.     He  has  a  very  fine  head ;   so,  aftel 


r  T  8  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

slipping  fresh  cartridges  in,  I  keep  him  covered.  Presently 
a  slight  swaying  motion  can  be  noticed ;  and  through  the 
huge  body  of  the  noble  beast  there  passes  a  convulsive 
ahudder.  His  front  legs  refuse  to  carry  him,  and  he 
slowly  sinks  on  his  knees  ;  the  next  instant  his  head 
droops,  and  he  rolls  over — a  dead  Wapiti.'  The  altitude 
of  the  spot,  not  a  foot  under  11,000  feet — and  probably 
nearer  12,000  feet — is  an  uncommon  one  for  Wapiti; 
but  more  extraordinary  is  the  fact,  that,  while  two  of 
the  stags  I  killed  have  their  antlers  perfectly  cleaned,  the 
other  two  are  in  as  perfect  a  state  of  velvet,  without  the 
slightest  sign  of  rubs  on  their  fur-like  covering.  Well, 
there  they  lie,  the  four  slain  ones,  and  you  will  not  be 
surprised  to  hear  that  my  inner  man  goes  forth,  and 
greets  them  right  gladly,  for  I  fancy  my  sensations  re- 
semble those, — of  course  altogether  on  a  lower  level — 
which  moved  the  spirit  of  the  "  cowboy,"  who,  after  a 
long  parting,  saw  his  girl — for  I  feel  "  like  I'd  reach  out 
and  gather  her  in." 

The  circumstance  of  their  different  heads  was,  how- 
ever, so  curious  that,  before  entering  upon  my  gralloching 
duties  I  spent  half  an  hour  in  a  successful  search  for  a 
clue.*  I  was  prompted  to  do  this  before  anything  else,  by 
the  very  threatening  look  of  the  sky;  and  I  had  not 
got  through  brittling  the  first  stag,  when  the  snowstorm 
was  upon  me.  Considering  the  very  early  season  of  the 
year,  the  intensity  of  the  storm  was  somewhat  surprising 
to  me ;  and  I  bitterly  rued  the  valuable  half-hour  I  had, 
as  I  then  thought,  wasted  in  my  search. 

The  storm  commenced  with  a  slush 5'^  hail,  drenching  me 
to  the  skin  in  the  first  three  or  four  minutes,  which  presently, 
•  See  Appendix  :  Wapiti.  *  Ibid, 


Camps  among  Wapiti,  1 1 9 

influenced  by  the  intensely  cold  wind,  turned  into  regular 
snow.  I  persevered,  however,  and  accomplished  the  most 
essential  portion  of  my  butcher's  work,  so  that  at  least 
the  meat  should  not  spoil ;  and  a  portion  of  the  fat,  which 
to  us  was  invaluable,  was  secured.  More  I  failed  to 
accomplish,  for  my  fingers  refused  to  hold  the  knife, 
which  danced  about  as  had  I  been  stricken  by  the  worst 
form  of  palsy,  while  my  teeth  kept  up  a  lively  chattering. 
I^ot  often  have  I  felt  the  intensity  of  cold  as  on  that 
August  day.  Fortunately  I  had  begun  on  the  first  stag 
by  cutting  out  the  tender  loin ;  and  with  two  tongues, 
all  safely  stowed  away  in  my  riicksack,  I  was  soon 
making  good  time  down  the  slope.  My  sole  flannel 
upper  garment,  frozen  stiff,  had  turned  into  icy  armour, 
crinkling  at  every  movement.  On  reaching  camp 
I  found  things  in  a  decidedly  uncomfortable  condi- 
tion, for  not  expecting  such  an  early  snowstorm,  we 
had  left  everything  strewn  about  on  the  ground;  and 
what  we  had  not  left  open,  the  hurricane-like  wind 
which  preceded  the  snow  had  scattered.  The  only  dry 
thing  was  the  tent,  and  that,  as  usual,  was  securely 
rolled  up  and  stowed  away  in  its  proper  waterproof 
canvas  sack,  for  hitherto  we  had  never  once  used  it. 
At  first  nothing  could  be  found  under  the  snow,  and 
the  whisky  keg,  last  of  all ;  for  I  need  not  say,  that 
under  the  circumstances  the  cask  was  the  first  thing  I 
looked  for.  At  last  I  discovered  it  under  a  heap  of  drifted 
snow,  and  nearly  knocked  my  front  teeth  down  my  throat 
in  my  attempt  to  bring  the  cup  to  my  lips.  Yery  shortly 
after  my  arrival.  Port  and  Edd,  the  former's  beard  a  mass 
of  icicles,  turned  up.  They  were  quite  as  miserable- 
looking   as    I   was;    but  their   faces    became    wreathed 


I20  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

with  sunny  smiles  when  they  heard  that  meat — glorious 
meat !  was  in  camp.  My  discovery  of  the  whisky-keg 
benefitted  also  them,  and  with  lighter  hearts  we  began 
to  set  things  straight.  When,  after  some  search,  we  found 
some  dry  wood,  all  our  hands  refused  to  hold  the  match, 
to  light  it.  Teeth  had  to  do  duty;  and,  aided  by 
the  wonderfully  developed  trapper's  knack  of  making  a 
fire  under  the  most  unfavourable  circumstances,  we  had 
a  roaring  blaze  shortly  afterwards.  The  snowstorm  had 
vanished  as  rapidly  as  it  had  appeared ;  so  that  when 
after  an  hour's  work,  we  finally  sat  down  to  dinner,  the 
sun  was  shining  brightly.  I  need  not  say  that  the  meal 
was  a  remarkably  square  one,  with  two  very  eager  and 
hungry-looking  dogs,  quite  forgetful  of  their  usual  good 
manners,  sitting  by  us  and  staring  us  hard  in  the  face. 
One  very  delightful  result  of  the  storm  was  that  it 
cleared  off  all  mosquitoes  ;  for  that  year  we  had  seen  the 
last  of  them.  Henry,  who  had  lost  his  way  in  a  dense 
forest  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  we  were  on,  turned  up 
only  the  next  morning.  Strange  to  say,  he  had  seen 
nothing  of  the  snowstorm ;  and  while  we  had  been  suffer- 
ing intense  cold,  he  had  to  complain  of  heat,  the  dif- 
ference of  altitude  being  hardly  over  4000  feet.  As  he 
reached  camp  early,  we  had  plenty  of  time  left  to  bring 
the  meat  and  heads  into  camp  before  night.  We  managed 
to  get  two  of  our  steadiest  pack-horses  a  good  way  up  the 
steep  slopes,  to  a  point  not  more  than  half  a  mile  from 
the  snowfield,  and  left  them  there  securely  picketted. 
In  two  loads  to  each  man,  we  took  down  to  the  horses  as 
much  meat  as  they  could  carry,  two  sets  of  antlers,  and 
about  fifty  pounds  of  fat,  or  so-called  "  elk-tallow," 
besides  a  goodly  load  for  each  human  back.     The  staga 


Camps  among  Wapiti.  I2i 

were  in  splendid  condition ;  but  we  had  some  trouble  in 
cutting  up  the  carcasses,  for  they  were  frozen  hard,  and 
we  had  either  to  cut  the  meat  out  in  shapeless  chunks 
with  the  timber-axe  and  knife,  or  saw  it  in  strips  with 
my  powerful  antler-saw. 

Never  was  venison  more  welcome,  and  never  did  savages 
"  eat  with  a  more  coming  appetite,"  for,  as  Port  said,  it 
kept  on  ''coming"  till  the  relays  of  frying-pans  were 
empty.  The  "  Four-bull  camp  hunger "  soon  became  a 
standard  measure  in  our  little  trapper  republic,  and  it  was 
one  of  the  camps  that  we  loved  to  talk  about  in  times  of 
"famine  and  pestilence." 

Game  of  the  larger  species,  to  be  seen  to  full  advantage 
ought  to  be  watched  in  their  proper  home ;  and  though 
some  of  the  deer  species,  such  as  the  barren-ground  cariboo, 
and  the  reindeer,  afford  exceptions  to  the  rule  that  the  stag 
is  the  child  of  forests,  the  Wapiti  decidedly  does  not. 
Nowhere  but  in  forest  landscape  can  the  glorious  propor- 
tions of  this  great  deer  be  fully  appreciated.  To  run 
Wapiti  on  horseback,  as  now  and  again  at  one  season  of 
the  year  the  sportsman  has  a  chance  to  do  on  the  upland 
Plains,  puts  him  on  a  par  with  a  quarry  that  occupies 
a  far  lower  rank  in  the  scale  of  game  worthy  of  real 
sportsmanlike  ardour,  viz.  the  bison,  or  buffalo.  And 
though  I  have  done  so  on  one  or  two  occasions  myself, 
and  have  keenly  enjoyed  the  run,  I  am  by  no  means  proud 
of  my  performance. 

I  know  of  few  more  inspiring  sights  than  a  ^\iq  stag  in 
his  true  home,  the  beautiful  Alpine  retreats  high  up  on 
certain  of  the  great  ranges  of  the  Eocky  Mountains. 
Scenery,  grand  as  it  may  be,  receives  fresh  charm  when 
framed  in  by  a  noble  pair  of  branching  antlers ;  and  I 


122  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

know  no  trophy  of  days  spent  in  the  far-off  wilds  that  will 
recall  stirring  memories  in  more  lifelike  and  warmei 
colours,  or  fill  your  soul  with  such  longing  desire  to  return 
speedily  to  the  well-known  glade  in  the  forest,  where  in  a 
fair  struggle  the  bearer  of  yonder  head  found  in  you  his 
master. 

As  I  write  these  lines,  which  I  happen  to  do  in  a  quiet 
old  Tyrolese  "  schloss,''  the  arched  corridors  of  which  are 
lined  with  trophies  of  the  chase  in  the  Old  and  New  World, 
the  shadow  of  such  a  great  head  is  thrown  across  my  table, 
for  the  low  winter  s  sun  is  casting  its  last  rays  through  the 
quaint  old  diamond-paned  and  marble -arched  window  at 
my  back.  It  is  my  largest  head.  The  skill  of  the  taxi- 
dermist has  not  been  uselessly  expended  upon  this  cherished 
souvenir  of  the  Rockies,  and  the  grand  old  fellow  looks 
down  with  a  very  lifelike  calmness  of  mien  from  the  broad 
expanse  of  the  tapestried  wall  reserved  to  him,  where  in 
stately  exclusiveness  he  has  fouud  his  last  home. 

Twelve  months  ago  the  great  stag  was  roaming  seven  or 
eight  thousand  miles  away,  thi*ough  the  dense  forests  and 
across  the  timber-girt  barriers  of  the  main  backbone  of  the 
North  American  "  divide.**  At  the  break  of  day  he 
bathed  in  the  clear  waters  of  one  or  the  other  of  its  hundreds 
of  nameless,  never-visited  lakelets :  in  the  morning  he 
drank  of  water  that  flowed  into  the  Atlantic,  while  his 
evening  draught  deprived  the  Pacific  Ocean  of  some  drops 
rightfully  belonging  to  it;  for  his  home  was  on  the  great 
watershed  of  the  Continent. 

Here  one  beautiful,  breezy,  October  morning  he  and  I 
met;  but  hunter  and  hunted  were  both  equally  unprepared 
for  each  other's  presence.  With  my  rifle  at  my  side  I  was 
lying  on  a  prominent  knoll,  examining  with  my  glasses  a 


Ca7nps  among  Wapiti,  123 

band  of  his  species  grazing  on  a  broad  glade  soraewbf*t  lower 
than  ray  position,  and  about  tbree  or  four  hundred  yards  off. 
There  was  nothing  worth  killing  among  the  lot,  though 
there  was  many  a  portly  old  stag  stalking  over  the  barren, 
for  it  was  "whistling  time,"  as  the  rutting  season  is  called,* 
when  the  old  males  join  the  smaller  fry  — a  sight  which, 
though  it  no  longer  stirs  my  pulse,  is  yet  one  I  always 
love  to  watch.  I  had  done  so  scores  of  times  in  different 
parts  of  the  West ;  this  year  on  the  grassy  highlands  shut 
in  by  mauvaises  terres  peaks,  of  weird  shape  and  weirder 
colouring,  in  some  of  the  more  central  portions  of 
"Wyoming ;  the  next  season  on  the  frontier  of  Montana, 
where  the  forestless  Sierra  Soshone  rises  from  the  undu- 
lating Bighorn  basin.  The  proud  stag,  filled  with  the 
dominant  instincts  of  the  season — love  and  war — exhibits 
at  this  time  the  full  virile  vigour  of  his  prime.  His  neck 
swells,  and  he  steps  with  a  consciousness  of  power  which 
at  other  seasons  is  replaced  by  a  less  noble,  timid  cautious- 
ness. 

Well,  I  had  scanned  evefry  one  of  the  two  or  three  hun- 
dred animals  disporting  themselves  with  a  pleasant  con- 
sciousness of  security  in  the  utter  seclusion  of  their  retreat, 
for  probably  none  of  them  had  ever  before  set  eyes  on  a 
human  being,  when  I  heard  a  slight,  rustling  noise  behind 
me.  I  was  above  actual  Timberline,  and  only  dwarfed 
cedars  and  some  tall  bushes  were  about  me.     I  turned  my 

•  The  term  is  derived  from  the  peculiar  sound  emitted  by  the  Htag 
at  rutting  time.  It  is  very  hard  to  imitate,  or  to  describe.  It  ia 
neither  a  whistle  nor  a  bellow.  Not  flnlike  some  tones  produced  by  an 
^olian  harp,  it  might  also  be  compared  to  the  higher  notes  pro- 
duced by  the  flageolet,  at  d  of  course  is  entirely  different  from  the  red 
deer's  call. 


124  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

head — and  there,  not  ten  yards  off,  just  issuing  from  the 
cover,  stood  the  biggest  Wapiti  I  had  ever  seen.  His  neck 
was  nearly  black,  the  rest  of  the  body  a  grizzly  grey- 
brown,  and  the  antlers  of  truly  gigantic  size.  We  looked 
at  each  other  for  a  second  ;  then,  still  keeping  my  eyes 
riveted  on  his,  my  hand  was  slowly,  very  slowly,  extended, 
to  where,  a  foot  or  two  off,  my  rifle  was  lying,  for  a  quick 
movement  is  in  like  cases  a  fatal  policy.  But  what  had 
succeeded  numbers  of  times  with  other  quarry,  more  wary 
even  than  the  Wapiti,  failed  in  this  instance.  Something 
or  other,  perhaps  a  nervous  twitching  of  my  face  or  other 
involuntary  motion,  alarmed  the  stag,  and  long  before  I 
had  the  rifle  up  to  my  shoulder,  he  had  turned  and  put 
the  dense  undergrowth  between  him  and  me. 

To  say  that  there  was  gnashing  of  teeth  and  scalding 
heart-burning  would  faintly  describe  the  intensity  of  my 
disgust.  The  whole  thing  was  the  work  of  a  second  ;  but 
on  my  eyes,  trained  to  speedy  impression,  was  photographed 
the  number  of  tines  and  the  extraordinarily  heavy  beam  of 
the  antlers,  outmatching  everything  I  had  killed  or  seen  up 
to  then.  What  was  most  singular  about  him  was,  that  he 
came  up  without  once  whistling — a  very  unusual  thing  for 
a  Wapiti  to  do  at  the  height  of  the  rutting  season.  The 
reader,  if  he  be  a  sportsman — and  no  other  is  likely  to  follow 
me  through  this  chapter — can  fancy  that  the  apparition  hjid 
awakened  in  me  all  the  bad  passions  of  the  craft,  and  T 
determined  to  bag  him,  if  it  were  at  all  possible.  As  the 
sequel  will  show,  it  was  destined  to  be  a  stern  chase. 

The  first  thing  to  do  under  the  circumstances  was  to 
ascertain  whether  the  stag  was  seriously  alarmed,  in  which 
case  pursuit  would  have  been  next  to  hopeless,  or  whether 
he  was  only  momentarily  scared,  and  also  to  discover  the 


Camps  among  Wapiti,  125 

direction  he  had  taken.  I  had  been  camped  a  day  or  two  in 
the  vicinity,  and  knew  the  general  character  of  the  ground 
for  several  miles  round.  I  was  also  aware  that  the  emi- 
nence on  which  I  stood  was  encircled  at  the  base,  on  every 
side,  by  a  belt  of  perfectly  barren  ground.  Waiting  a 
minute  or  two  as  patiently  as  I  could,  to  let  the  stag  get 
far  enough  off  not  to  hear  me,  I  proceeded  at  a  trot  to  the 
bare  top  of  the  knoll,  about  200  feet  above  me.  A  minute 
or  two  after  getting  there,  I  perceived  the  stag  debouch 
from  the  forest  below  me,  and  cross  the  said  open  ground. 
He  did  so  very  leisurely,  so  I  judged  he  was  not  really 
alarmed.  The  distance  was  great — some  six  or  seven  hun- 
dred yards  at  the  very  least ;  but  so  eager  was  I  to  get  him, 
that  had  he  halted  I  am  afraid  I  would  have  succumbed 
to  the  temptation  of  chancing  a  shot — under  the  circum- 
stances, about  the  most  foolish  thing  to  do.  Fortunately, 
however,  he  kept  on  his  even,  though  slow,  trot,  and  in 
half  a  minute  or  so  had  gained  the  forest  on  the  other  side 
of  the  belt  of  bare  ground.  When  I  started  from  camp 
that  morning  I  intended  to  return  by  night ;  and  as  I 
conjectured  that  this  chase  might  be  a  long  one,  and  pos- 
sibly entail  sleeping  out,  I  deemed  it  wiser  to  take  a 
little  grub,  and  procure  some  warmer  clothing  than  the 
flannel  shirt  which  was  my  only  upper  garment.  My 
camp  was  not  far  off,  and  not  very  much  out  of  the 
direction  the  stag  had  taken,  so  putting  the  best  of  my 
long  pair  of  legs  foremost,  or  as  my  men  called  it, 
*'  untangling  forked  lightning,''  I  soon  reached  the  little 
tarn,  close  to  the  pebbly  beach  of  which  two  piles  of  buffalo 
robes  and  bearskins,  and  the  remains  of  a  big  camp-fire 
indicated  oiir  vagrants*  domicile.  After  scribbling  with  a 
burnt  stick  from  the  fire  on  the  skin  surface  of  the  nearest 


126  Ca7nps  in  the  Rockies. 

buffalo  robe,  "  Gone  after  big  elk,"  so  as  to  let  the  men 
know  the  reason  of  my  absence  if  I  did  not  turn  up  at  dark, 
I  snatched  up  half  a  loaf  of  bread,  my  coat,  and  my  faithful 
rucksack,  and  was  off.  Always  ready  packed  for  such  emer- 
gencies, I  knew  the  latter  contained,  small  as  was  its  volume 
and  weight,  the  most  essential  things  with  which  to  pass  a 
night  or  two  in  the  woods  without  uncommonly  great  hard- 
ships. A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  I  was  on  the  track  of  the 
Wapiti.  The  ground  was  very  broken,  and  the  forest  soon 
"  pettered  out "  into  detached  patches,  while  groups  of 
Btrangely-gnarled  cedars  and  spruce,  which  finally  gave 
way  to  an  undulating  "  barren,''  strewn,  wonderful  to  say— 
for  I  was  on  the  very  top  ridge  of  the  great  chain,  and  no 
high  peaks  about — with  huge  detached  boulders,  whose 
origin  only  science  could  demonstrate.  Here  it  was  very 
difficult  to  track,  for  the  ground  was  frozen  hard.  Fortu- 
nately, there  were  frequently  recurring  patches  of  snow 
from  the  last  storm,  and  there  my  work  was  easier.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  barren  there  were  strange-looking  mounds, 
tipped  with  little  groves  of  trees.  These  mounds  had 
precipitous  banks,  and  in  places  spurs  of  the  same  soft  soil, 
a  sort  of  loam,  connected  them.  On  this  ground  I  could 
easily  track  him  ;  and  there,  too,  I  saw  from  the  tracks  that 
he  was  no  longer  trotting,  but  walking.  With  varying 
fortune  I  followed  on,  doing  my  best  not  to  lose  the  slot.  As 
there  were  scores  of  old  and  new  spoors  about,  I  was  obliged 
to  distinguish  mine  more  by  the  size  than  by  anything 
else.  It  was  no  easy  task,  particularly  as  I  had  to  keep 
a  sharp  look-out  ahead,  for  the  stag  might  be  grazing  on 
any  one  of  the  numerous  forest-girt  glades  I  was  constantly 
crossing.  I  suppose  I  must  have  been  about  two  or  three 
hours  peering  my  eyes  out  of  my  head,  when  in  the  distance 


Camps  among  Wapiti,  127 

I  heard  a  regular  "  whistling  *'  concert.  There  seemed  to 
be  hundreds  of  Wapiti,  and  I  was  left  in  no  doubt  that  I  was 
about  to  run  on  a  large  band.  Probably  the  big  stag  was 
among  them,  for  bis  track  led  straight  into  the  middle  of 
them.  I  climbed  a  rocky  hillock,  thirty  or  forty  feet  in 
height,  and  there  awaited  the  herd,  for  on  account  of  the 
wind,  which  was  athwart  my  course,  I  was  afraid,  not 
knowing  the  extent  of  the  area  covered  by  the  band,  to  risk 
proceeding  any  further  on  their  lee  side.  On  they  came, 
slowly  grazing  their  way;  at  first  a  few  detached  bodies,  each 
consisting  of  a  few  females  with  their  more  than  half- 
grown  calves  at  their  side,  herded  along  in  each  instance 
by  a  large  stag,  kept  \ery  busy  by  his  amorous  attentions, 
and  by  the  persistent  impudence  of  young  bucks,  at  whom 
many  a  vicious  dig  was  levelled.  Then  gradually  more  and 
still  more  hove  in  sight,  till  at  last  the  undulating  barren 
was  a  moving  mass  of  Wapiti — fighting,  feeding,  love- 
making,  and  "whistling,'^  while  I  on  my  rocky  perch  was  in 
the  very  midst  of  them.  Some  of  the  fighting  was  of  a  very 
determined  character ;  and  remembering  their  great  size 
— for  only  good  stags  engage  in  these  desperate  struggles 
— it  is  a  grand  sight  to  see  two  such  lordly  combatants 
rush  at  each  other,  their  huge  antlers  crashing  together 
with  amazing  force.  Unlike  the  European  stags — who,  if 
their  horns  do  not  get  interlocked,  fly  asunder  as  soon  as 
the  charge  is  delivered,  to  repeat  the  furious  rush  again 
and  again — the  Wapiti  try  rather  to  push ;  and,  not  being 
as  quick  as  our  European  stag,  who  generally  rips  his 
antagonist's  side,  the  wounds  are  mostly  about  the  neck 
and  shoulders. 

As  I  was  very  intent  looking  out  for  my  big  stag,  I 
hardly  paid  suflBcient  attention  to  the  general  aspect  of  the 


128  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

scene,  and  did  not  even  take  time  to  approximately  count 
fche  band,  as  is  my  wont  on  such  occasions.  At  a  rough 
estimate,  there  were  six  or  seven  hundred  animals  in  it. 
Among  them  were  two  exceptionally  large  old  bulls, 
each  surrounded  by  a  group  of  hinds  far  more  nuineroua 
than  those  of  the  ordinary  seraglios.  A  second's  scrutiny 
with  my  powerful  glasses  proved,  however,  that  neither 
was  the  one  I  was  looking  for.  The  main  body  was 
passing  me  on  the  safe  side,  but  some  had  taken  the  lee- 
ward one — a  matter  of  some  anxiety  to  me,  for  I  feared 
they  could  not  help  getting  my  wind.  Nothing  happened, 
however,  the  breeze,  I  presume,  carrying  the  betraying 
taint  over  their  heads.  There  I  sat,  and  had  to  sit  for  two 
long  hours.  The  open  barren  was  apparently  a  well- 
known  pleasaunce  to  the  band,  for  they  were  in  no  hurry 
to  leave  it. 

My  impatience  can  be  imagined.  Things  looked  very 
dark,  for  if  the  stag  did  not  show  up  with  the  band  it 
would  of  course  be  impossible  to  trail  him  any  farther  over 
ground  tracked  all  to  bits  by  such  a  number  of  animals. 
At  last  the  coast  was  sufficiently  clear  to  permit  my 
stealing  down  and  gaining  the  forest  from  whence  the  herd 
had  issued,  and  through  which  my  quarry  must  have 
passed.  What  to  do  next  I  knew  not ;  but  I  determined  to 
continue  my  search  as  long  as  it  was  light,  and  if  it 
proved  futile,  to  get  back  to  camp  by  night.  The  forest, 
I  discovered,  was  not  very  extensive.  On  the  other  side 
of  it  again  was  very  broken  ground,  full  of  ravines  and 
bad-land  gullies.  In  one  of  these,  larger  and  deeper  than 
the  rest,  there  grew  a  bunch  of  cotton  wood- trees,  with 
thick  brush-cover  round  the  base.  I  was  running  down 
the  excessively  steep  slope  of  soft  loam,  when  I  heard  twigi 


Camps  among  Wapiti.  129 

snapping,  and  other  unmistakable  signs  of  a  stag  break- 
ing cover.  I  could  not  stay  the  impetus  of  my  course, 
but  managed  to  swerve  off  to  one  side,  so  as  to  get  a  better 
view  of  the  opposite  slope.  Hardly  had  I  done  so  when 
there,  not  more  than  seventy  yards  off,  the  big  stag 
burst  from  the  cover,  his  peculiarly  grizzly  colour  con- 
vincing me  of  his  identity  the  very  first  second  I  saw  him. 
He  was  making  down  the  gully  at  a  double-quick  trot,  and 
a  sharp  comer  would  hide  him  the  next  moment ;  so,  with- 
out knowing  very  clearly  what  I  did,  I  threw  up  my  rifle 
and  fired.  Had  I  hit  him  ?  I  knew  not,  for  my  shot  was 
a  very  quick  one,  and  I  was  standing  in  a  most  awkward 
position  on  a  steep  bank,  the  soil  of  which  was  continually 
giving  way  under  my  feet.  I  imagined  I  heard  the 
bullet  strike,  but  the  distance  was  too  short  to  make  out 
distinctly  that  reassuring  sound,  so  well  known  to  the 
rifleshot.  The  stag  had  vanished,  without  a  sign  or  drop  of 
blood  to  show  I  had  hit  him.  As  can  be  imagined,  I  was 
vastly  excited,  and  had  a  grizzly  at  that  moment  started 
up  in  my  path  I  think  I  would  have  shouted  to  him  to 
get  out  of  my  way.  The  first  thing  to  do  was  to  see 
whether  I  had  wounded  my  game.  By  marking  the  ground, 
I  soon  found  in  the  clay  bank  which  formed  the  back- 
ground to  the  Wapiti  at  the  moment  I  fired,  the  hole  made 
by  my  bullet ;  and  with  my  jack-knife  I  dug  out  the  missile. 
The  short  distance  it  had  penetrated  into  the  clay,  and  the 
circumstance  that  its  top  was  flattened,  and  that  under  the 
recurving  bits  of  lead  blood-stains  could  be  seen,  proved 
incontestably  that  the  ball  had  passed  through  some  part  of 
the  animal,  unluckily  without  striking  any  large  bones. 
Notwithstanding  that  I  knew  from  experience  what  an 
astonishing  amount  of  lead  Wapiti  will  often  carry  oft   I 

K 


I30  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

was  greatly  elated  at  what  I  had  discoTered,  and  alsd 
far  too  impatient  to  do  what  would  have  been  the  wisest 
thing  under  the  circumstances,  namely,  to  return  to  camp, 
and  on  the  following  morning  track  the  "Wapiti  witli  the  dog. 
Giving  him  not  more  than  half  an  hour's  grace,  I  was  on 
his  slot  very  much  too  soon.  At  first  I  found  drops  of 
blood  only  on  the  near  side  of  the  track,  then  they  ap- 
peared on  both  sides ;  that  on  the  near  side,  being  of  dark, 
that  on  the  ofi",  of  lighter  colour,  and  flecked  with  bubbly 
froth — the  latter,  a  sure  sign  the  lungs  were  injured. 
Hence  as  I  had  shot  him  quartering,  I  had  hit  him  low, 
and  rather  too  far  back,  and  the  bullet,  ranging  forward, 
had  penetrated  the  right  lung. 

It  must  have  been  about  five  when  I  shot,  so  little  more 
than  an  hour  remained  for  tracking.  Urged  on  by  the 
hope  of  every  minute  coming  up  with  the  dying  stag,  I 
foolishly  proceeded.  I  had  not  gone  more  than  a  mile  when 
I  struck  a  "  couch  *'  of  the  sick  animal,  which  evidently  he 
had  just  left.  The  blood  was  still  warm,  and  by  the 
quantities  I  judged  the  animal  would  have  died  very  shortly 
had  he  not  been  roused  to  a  last  frantic  effort  by  hearing, 
or  rather  winding,  my  approach.  It  is  wonderful  how 
far  even  the  much  smaller  and  feebler  European  stag  will 
wander  if  he  is  thus  alarmed.  Life  seems  to  receive  a 
fresh  lease;  and  only  too  often  will  a  stag,  fatally  wounded 
and  not  left  to  die  in  peace,  elude  the  hunter  and  outrun 
his  hounds. 

I  was  disgusted,  and  gave  up  further  pursuit  for  that 
night ;  for  dusk  was  approaching,  and  I  had  to  look  for  a 
camping-place.  After  a  little  search  I  discovered  an 
inviting  spot  beneath  a  grove  of  spreading  old  trees, 
occupying  a  very  sheltered  nook  *under  some  high  cliffli 


Camps  among  Wapiti.  131 

where  fuel  was  abundant.  The  "iron  store"  of  my 
rucksack  furnished  an  ample,  though  simple,  supper ; 
and  one  of  my  usual  little  waistcoat- pocket  companions 
helped  me  to  wile  away  the  long  hours  of  the  evening. 
Stretched  out  before  the  fire,  with  a  log  under  my  head, 
my  stalking-cap  and  handkerchief  as  pillow,  my  face 
turned  from  the  bright  warm  flames  throwing  a  sufficiency 
of  light  upon  the  closely  printed  pages,  several  logs  piled 
upon  each  other  on  my  cold  side  as  a  wind-brake, 
while  my  other  one  was  undergoing  pleasant  toasting — 
I  have  passed  many  a  more  dreary  evening  in  drawing- 
rooms,  many  a  more  sleepless  night  in  civilized  beds. 
There  is,  however,  a  most  uncanny  chilly  sj)ell  just  pre- 
ceding dawn,  which  usually  wakes  one.  It  is  about  the 
only  time  one  really  feels — at  least,  in  fine  weather — the 
hardship  of  camping  out  without  coverings,  and  with  the 
thermometer,  for  hours,  a  good  many  degrees  below 
freezing-point.  Then  it  is,  while  the  camp-fire  is  piled 
highest,  that  the  few  precious  drops  of  whiskey — saved 
especially  for  this  moment — taste  uncommonly  like  more, 
and  that  the  human  form  divine  is  voted  solid  and 
lumpish.  The  portion  of  your  body  that  you  can  warm 
at  the  grateful  fire  seems  ludicrously  small;  while  the 
periphery  of  the  rest  of  your  shivering  anatomy  exposed 
to  the  icy  blast  appears  vastly  extended.  How  willingly 
you  would  sacrifice  some  of  your  impermeable  depth  for 
increased  surface,  to  be  able  to  unfold,  as  it  were,  your 
shivering  humanity,  and  thaw  it  at  the  bonny  blaze,  as  you 
or  your  butler  dries  the  sheets  of  the  Time%  in  front  of  the 
cosy  breakfast- room  fire. 

Fortunately,  dawn  in  the  West  is  not  like  the  gradual 
awakening  of  Nature  we  know  it  to  be  in  the  old  world. 

K  2 


132  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

The  change  from  night  to  day  is  far  more  rapid ;  and, 
what  I  have  remarked  in  another  place,  namely,  the 
newness  of  Nature,  seems  to  be  betrayed  also  in  this  in- 
stance. She  rouses  herself  with  the  vigorous  impetuosity 
of  robust  youth  which  revels  in  contrasting  extremes. 

The  crumbs  of  last  night*s  supper  gave  a  scanty 
breakfast ;  and  I  was  on  the  track  of  my  quarry  at  the 
first  show  of  light.  I  will  not  weary  the  reader  with 
an  account  of  that  long  day's  pursuit.  The  last  gasp  for 
life  of  the  dying  stag  had  carried  him  many  a  mile ; 
fortunately,  not  very  much  out  of  my  way  back  to  camp, 
otherwise  I  should  have  been  in  the  most  unpleasant  fix 
of  passing  another  night  under  a  handy  tree — this  time,  a 
wretchedly  food-less  and  spirit-less  being. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  I  came  up  to  the 
monarch  of  the  Great  Divide.  There  he  lay,  where  death 
had  at  last  ended  his  gallant  flight.  He  had  been  dead 
many  hours,  for  his  body  was  quite  rigid,  and  his  eye 
lustreless  and  broken.  He  was  released  with  merciful 
suddenness  ;  for  yonder,  not  five  yards  off  from  where  he 
lay,  I  could  plainly  see  by  his  slot  that  he  had  been 
trotting  with  measured  stride,  when  all  at  once  his  vital 
forces  collapsed,  and  he  pitched  forward  on  his  head,  the 
lowest  prongs  of  his  antlers  digging  themselves  for  more 
than  a  foot  into  the  soil — so  deep,  that  unaided  I  could 
not  release  them. 

Of  the  many  thousands  of  Wapiti  I  have  seen,  he  was 
by  far  the  largest,  and  must  have  weighed  quite  10  cwt., 
for  his  antlers  alone,  on  their  arrival  in  Europe,  turned 
the  scales  at  forty-four  pounds.  His  skin  was  a  very 
peculiar  grizzly,  and  I  was  most  anxious  tc  save  it ;  but  it 
was  much  too  late  to  do  anything  that  day,  even  had  I 


Camps  among  Wapiti,  1 33 

been  able  to  turn  the  stag  on  his  back,  wbicli,  without 
much  loss  of  time,  I  found  impossible.  Cutting  out,  as 
I  always  do,  his  two  canine  teeth,  I  found  them  to  be 
of  quite  enormous  size,  nearly  double  that  of  any  others 
I  iver  got.  So  uncommonly  large  were  they,  that  when 
I  subsequently  happened  to  show  them  to  one  of  the  sub- 
chiefs  of  the  Mountain  Crow  Indians,  he  offered  me  the 
pick  of  his  ponies''  for  them. 

With  them  in  my  pocket  and  his  tongue  in  my  riick- 
sack — the  former  as  a  very  tangible  proof  of  the  great  size 
of  my  quarry — I  left  for  camp,  to  return  on  the  morrow  for 
head  and  skin. 

It  was  after  dark  when  a  tired,  and  hungry,  but  withal 
good-humouredly  satisfied  person  struck  our  camp.  A 
single  signal-shot  had  rung  through  the  sombie  forest  and 
across  the  tranquil  tarn,  so  when  the  belated  one  emerged 
from  the  inky  gloom  into  the  bright  circle  of  ruddy  light 
round  the  huge  camp-fire,  he  found  awaiting  him  a 
cheery  welcome  and  a  glorious  supper. 

Next  morning.  Port  and  I,  with  a  pack-horse,  rode 
over  to  the  dead  stag.  I  have  mentioned  that  I  was 
anxious  to  save  the  skin,  as  its  colour  was  unlike  anything 
I  had  seen :  ^  but  Uncle  Ephraim  had  this  time  acted  the 
proverbial  host,  and  when  we  got  to  the  spot  the  carcass 
had  disappeared.  Two  large  bears  had  made  a  very  satis- 
factory supper  off  it,  and,  as  is  usual  with  them,  had 
cached  (concealed)  the  remainder  in  a  hole  they  had  dug, 
leaving  but  the  upper  portions  of  the  antlers  protruding. 

•  See  Appendix. 

'  I  have  since  observed  a  like  instance  of  grizzly  Wapiti ;  but,  not* 
n^ithstanding  ardent  efifurts,  I  failed,  owing  to  a  disgraceful  miss,  u 
■ecure  the  owner  of  it. 


1 34  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

Considering  that  the  surface  of  the  ground  was  frozen, 
and  that  the  hole  must  been  quite  three  or  four  feet  deep, 
it  was  a  surprisingly  quick  piece  of  caching.  With 
pointed  sticks  we  dug  out  the  upper  portion  of  the  carcass, 
which  was  uninjured,  and  thus  rescued  not  only  the  best 
head  of  my  collection,  but  also  the  one  to  which  are 
attached  the  pleasantest  memories. 

Many  an  idle  half-hour  have  I  passed  on  yonder  corner 
lounge,  from  whence  the  grand  outline  of  the  majestic 
head  can  best  be  seen.  No  doubt  some  future  Ruskin  of 
the  chase  will  build  up  and  propound  the  hitherto  un- 
enunciated  bearing  of  Nature's  works  upon  Art.  For  one 
of  his  examples  let  him  take  the  spreading  antlers  of  the 
stag,  creations  not  only  of  graceful  beauty,  but  also  of 
architectonic  boldness,  with  their  pearled  burr,  their  can- 
nelured  beam,  their  tapering  tines,  their  spreading  sweep, 
while  the  angles  formed  by  the  tines  and  the  main  beam 
may  well  be  supposed  to  have  served  as  primitive  models 
for  the  first  Gothic  arches.  All  have  engrossed  from  the 
earliest  prehistoric  times  the  pictorial  attempts  of  the  human 
race.  Things  which  administer  to  the  domestic  daily  wants 
of  man,  as  did  the  staghorn  for  thousands  of  years,  are 
wont  to  lose  in  his  eyes  the  irapressiveness  of  their  beauty ; 
and  yet  we  see  on  the  potsherd  discovered  in  long-hidden 
**  Pfahlbauten,"  or  on  the  Aquitanian  relics  of  prehistoric 
men,  the  rude  attempt  to  outline  the  hart's  form.  From 
the  Rigvedas  to  records  of  later  days  which  narrate  how 
silver  images,  such  as  Certi  argentei,  were  placed  in 
ancient  fanes  and  Christian  churches,  in  commemoration 
of  legends  not  dissimilar  to  that  of  Rome's  foundation,  we 
learn  how  the  stag  busied  chisel,  pencil,  and  pen.  And, 
if  we  pass  to  later  periods,  to  mediaeval  times,  we  find  thai 


Camps  anion^  Wapiti.  135 

in  the  vast  forests  of  the  main  Continent  of  Europe,  a  cultus 
of  worship  of  the  stag's  chase  had  sprung  up ;  and  when 
monarchism  succeeded  the  rude  reign  of  patriarchism,  the 
stag  became  the  royal  game.  The  right  to  kill  him  was  the 
exclusive  privilege  of  the  highest  of  the  land.  Ecclesiastic 
as  well  as  secular  sovereigns  devoted  their  lives  to  his  chase; 
while  Notahilia  Venatoris  was,  in  the  Sixteenth,  Seven- 
teenth, and  Eighteenth  Centuries,  the  sole  science  of  polite 
society."  In  those  days  the  courtier  received  from  his 
earliest  youth  strict  training  in  the  arts  of  venery,  and 
he  had  to  know  more  about  the  seventy-two  signs  by 
which  the  slot  of  a  "  royal ''  could  be  recognized  than  of 
any  other  polite  art.  Those  were  the  good  old  days,  when 
nothing  less  than  the  Cerf  de  douze-cors  was  killed. 
and  such  very  singular  customs  prevailed  as  /.♦.  the 
presentation  on  a  silver  salver  of  the  droppings  of  the 
"  royal,'*  the  object  of  the  day's  chase,  to  the  royal  mistress, 
by  the  master  of  the  hunt  kneeling  at  her  feet— a  cere- 
mony which,  by-the-bye,  was  de  rigueur  also  at  the  court  of 
our  good  Queen  Bess.*  Most  of  the  Continental  potentates 
were  great  hunters.  So  late  as  the  commencement  of  the 
present  century,  we  hear  of  one  of  these  grizzly  Nimrods, 
devoting  his  whole  life  to  the  chase  of  the  stag,  doffing 
his  hat  every  time  he  passed  the  head  of  the  largest  hart 
he  had  killed,  which  hung  with  many  hundreds  of  others 
in  the  galleries  of  his  favourite  "schloss,"  and  insisting 
that  the  gentlemen  of  his  court  should  do  the  same.  His 
ancestors  from  time  immemorial  were  great  staghunters ; 
and  the  chronicles  of  that  ancient  house  teem  with  the  most 

•  See  Appendix  :   Wapiti. 

•  In  Turberville's  "  Noble  Arte  of  Venerie  "  (1676),  this  is  quaintlj 
illostrated. 


1 36  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

extravagant  eccentricities,  some  even  more  singular  than 
the  following  instance,  the  fancy  of  Duke  William  the  Red, 
who  would  order  a  great  triumphal  arch  to  be  raised  in 
the  centre  of  the  forest,  and  by  dint  of  the  extraordinarily 
complete  equipage  de  chasse  force  the  stags  to  run  through 
the  arch,  where  rosaries  made  of  the  orthodox  number  of 
wooden  beads,  only  much  larger  than  usual,  would  be 
dexterously  thrown  over  the  antlers.  "  Thus  prepared 
for  death/'  as  the  chronicler,  from  whom  I  take  this, 
says,  "they  would  rush  on  to  meet  it  at  the  hands  of 
the  royal  hunter." 

The  beauty  of  outline  displayed  by  a  pair  of  good-sized 
and  normal-shaped  stag's  antlers — I  am  referring  here 
only  to  those  of  the  red  deer  and  Wapiti — is  perhaps  not 
of  a  kind  to  strike  the  eye  of  the  casual  observer. 

There  is  probably  no  formation  in  nature  so  diflBcult  to 
portray  correctly  as  a  stag's  head.  It  took  even  Landseer 
six  years  to  grasp  its  wealth  of  ever-changing  form  ; 
and  nothing  will  give  one  a  better  idea  of  the  difficulties 
in  this  respect  than  to  turn  over  the  earlier  sketches  of 
great  animal  painters.  Not  to  speak  of  several  German 
masters  in  this  department,  who  ultimately  were  worthy 
rivals  of  Landseer's  skill,  at  least  as  far  as  red  deer  are 
concerned,  and  whose  original  sketches  I  have  had  occasion 
to  examine,  a  study  of  the  latter's  very  numerous  early 
attempts  to  depict  this  configuration  of  undulating  lines 
will  show  what  I  mean.* 

•  Some  idea  of  this  circumstance  can  be  gained  by  examining 
Landseer*8  sketches,  giving  many  of  his  more  youthful  works,  in  the 
Art  Journal  for  1876  ;  and,  if  1  remember  rightly,  also  for  the 
preceding  year.  Of  course,  the  original  sketches  bring  this  even  mon 
strikingly  before  one's  eyes. 


Camps  among  Wapiti.  137 

But  I  am  wandering  far  from  Wapiti  shooting ;  and 
though  I  could  fill  many  a  page  with  matter  anent  stag- 
lore  and  **  antlermania/'  it  is  a  subject  which  is  anything 
but  of  general  interest  in  the  two  great  countries  in  the 
language  of  which  these  jottings  are  written. 

The  shooting  of  my  very  first  Wapiti,  under  the  guid- 
ance of  an  urchin  some  fourteen  years  old,  was  a  some- 
what ludicrous  afiuir;  and  as  its  recital  will  give  the 
reader  an  idea  of  a  Western  family  of  market-hunters,  I 
am  tempted  to  relate  it.  The  locality  was  Laramie  Peak, 
once  a  well-known  sporting-ground  a  hundred  miles  north 
of  Cheyenne,  in  Wyoming,  but  now  too  near  to  frontier 
settlements  to  afford  good  sport.  I  had  been  following 
some  mythical  Bighorn  on  the  peak — it  was  on  my  first 
trip,  and  I  was  yet  of  pleasant  greenness — and  was 
returning  in  the  evening  to  our  distant  camp,  when  a 
shot  in  close  proximity  attracted  me  to  a  small  glade-like 
opening  in  the  forest.  When  I  reached  the  spot  I  saw, 
lying  in  the  centre  of  the  treeless  space,  a  large  animal ; 
and,  going  closer,  I  found  it  was  a  Wapiti,  apparently  in 
the  throes  of  death,  for  his  legs  were  moving,  and  his 
body  was  not  yet  quite  motionless.  Going  still  closer, 
till  I  was  about  ten  yards  off,  I  perceived  that  the  game 
had  been  brittled,  and  that  the  paunch  and  intestines  were 
lying  close  to  it,  alongside  of  an  outlandish  rifle,  with  a 
barrel  some  four  or  five  feet  long.  No  sportsman  was 
visible ;  a  grey  pony,  rigged  in  Indian  fashion,  was  graz- 
ing peacefully  in  close  vicinity,  its  slashed  ear  betokening 
it  to  be  of  Indian  origin.  Strange  to  say,  the  Wapiti, 
though  brittled  was  still  moving,  and,  to  my  no  little 
astonishment,  I  heard  guttural  sounds  issuing  from  his 
inside,     fie  was  lying  on  his  back,  his  antlers  dug  into 


1 38  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

the  earth ;  and  on  ray  stepping  closer,  the  sonnds  took 
the  shape  of  words,  and  these  again  the  form  of  some 
of  the  hardest  and  most  blasphemous  oaths  of  the  Ameri- 
can tongue  ever  heard  by  me.  Certainly,  if  that  Wapiti 
had  not  died  of  a  legitimate  bullet,  he  must  have  suc- 
cumbed to  the  language  now  issuing  in  sepulchral  tones 
from  his  belly. 

I  was  naturally  much  surprised,  for,  great  as  were  my 
expectations  of  the  wonders  which  the  "Great  West" 
was  to  unfold  to  me,  a  speaking  and  swearing  Wapiti  was 
not  among  the  sights  I  had  hoped  to  meet.  No  doubt 
"  bad  medicine  "  hovered  about  this  wild  and  lonely  spot. 
I  was  not  a  little  relieved,  therefore,  when  the  evil  spirit 
presently  took  the  shape  of  a  pair  of  heels  clad  in  mocca- 
sins, which  made  their  appearance  at  the  incision  cut  to 
brittle  the  game.  A  pair  of  legs  clad  in  leathers  reeking 
with  blood,  next  made  their  appearance ;  and  soon  body 
and  head  of  a  very  diminutive  creature,  covered  from 
head  to  foot  with  gore  still  warm  and  steaming,  had 
wriggled  itself  out  of  the  carcass,  dragging  out  behind 
him  the  lungs,  heart,  and  a  part  of  the  windpipe.  A 
stream  of  tobacco  juice,  squirted  from  the  mouth,  which  at 
once  broadened  into  a  grin,  and  a  terse  greeting,  made  up 
largely  of  blanks,  "  stranger,"  and  two  or  three  "  guesses," 
dispelled  my  last  doubts  respecting  the  humanity  of  the 
creature.  The  boy — for  such  the  being  turned  out  to  be — 
an  urchin  fourteen  years  old,  but  very  dwarfed  for  his  age, 
had  soon  informed  me  that  he  had  "  gone  and  done  the 
bull "  with  his  needle  rifle,  whose  merits  for  range  and 
precision  he  wearied  not  to  extol,  and  which  presently  he 
handed  to  me  for  inspection.  ISTot  unlike  our  Enfield  rifle 
of  prehistoric  day,  it  was  of  immense  bore,  and  decidedly 


Camps  among  Wapiti.  1 39 

a  foot  and  a  half  longer  than  its  owner  was  tall.  The  metal 
fastenings  of  the  barrel  to  the  stock  were  gone  — raw 
hide  or  *' buck-string  "  had  taken  their  places— and  the 
Btock  was  of  home-made  origin,  studded  with  brass  nails, 
and  notched  in  the  most  fantastic  manner.  The  owner, 
however,  informed  me  with  much  pride,  that  he  had  shot 
already  over  two  hundred  elks  and  blacktails  with  it,  not 
forgetting  two  cinnamon  (grizzly)  bears,  which  he  had 
potted,  I  presumed,  from  a  safe  place.  The  boy  had  come 
upon  a  gang  of  moving  Wapiti,  and,  picking  out  the 
biggest  bull,  had  rolled  him  over  by  a  very  true  shot  some 
two  hundred  yards  off.  Questioning  him  why  he  hid 
himself  in  the  Wapiti,  his  grinning  answer  informed  me 
that  it  was  his  usual  manner  of  getting  at  the  lungs,  for 
his  arms  were  far  too  short  to  reach  them  in  the  usual 
way,  and  he  was  not  strong  enough  to  cleave  the  breast- 
bone and  brisket  with  his  knife. 

While  talking  he  had  whipped  out  an  Indian  scalping- 
knife  (sharpened  only  on  one  side  of  the  edge),  and  in  less 
than  half  an  hour  had  skinned  the  huge  stag  in  the  most 
workmanlike  manner — a  fire  of  guesses  respecting  the 
weight  of  meat  and  tallow,  interlarded  with  frequent  dis- 
charges of  tobacco-juice,  accompanying  the  greasy  work. 
The  green  hide,  weighing  about  a  hundredweight,  was 
of  course  too  heavy  for  the  boy  to  lift  on  his  pony ;  and, 
as  he  explained  to  me  that  he  was  going  to  take  it  home, 
leaving  the  carcass  ''empty  and  clean,"  covered  with 
boughs,  to  be  fetched  on  the  morrow,  I  was  expecting  he 
would  ask  me  to  help  him  put  the  hide  on  his  horse.  But 
80  used  does  the  merest  child  get  to  the  great  Western 
axiom  of  self-help,  that  he  preferred  accomplishing  this 
in  his  own  way,  which  he  did  with  the  quick  readiness  of 


r40  Camps  in  tJu  Rockies. 

long  practice.  Taking  his  raw-hide  lariat  from  his  saddle, 
he  gave  it  a  turn  or  two  round  the  horn,  and  bringing  up 
the  pony  to  the  Wapiti  which  was  still  lying  on  the  skin, 
he  twisted  the  lariat  round  the  neck  of  the  hide,  gave  the 
horse  a  kick,  and  the  next  instant  the  skin  hud  been 
pulled  from  under  the  stag,  and  was  dragging  behind  the 
pony,  who,  however,  soon  stopped,  evidently  well  up  to 
his  work.  Going  up  to  him,  the  boy  tied  the  loose  end 
of  the  lariat  to  the  two  hind  legs  of  the  hide,  and  taking 
the  rope  across  the  smooth  saddle,  and  placing  one  leg 
against  the  horse's  flanks  as  a  purchase,  had  in  a  twink- 
ling hoisted  one  half  of  the  fleshy  mass  saddle-high. 
Doing  the  same  with  the  fore  part,  it  was  then  easy  to 
arrange  the  skin  in  the  most  convenient  manner.  The 
nipid  and  practical  manner  of  the  urchin's  arrangements 
proved  that,  though  youthful  in  years  and  diminutive 
in  stature,  he  wtis  an  old  hand  at  pnckin?  elk  hides. 
Not  a  knot  was  slung  superfluously ;  with  rapid  but  silent 
steps  he  moved  hither  and  thither,  now  covering  the  huge 
carcass  with  fresh  boughs,  or  with  one  circular  sweep  of 
bis  sharp  knife  extracting  the  Wapiti's  tongue  and 
fastening  it  to  his  saddle ;  then  tightening  the  primitive 
rope  and  cord  girth  of  the  old  pony,  he  had  soon  brought 
his  preparations  to  a  finish. 

Before  mounting  he  spread  a  square  of  the  tattered 
saddle  bhmket,  which  he  had  taken  from  under  the  old 
ruin  of  a  saddle  on  the  pony's  back,  over  the  carcass  of 
the  stag,  while  a  rag  of  a  handkerchief  he  wore  round  his 
head  instead  of  a  hut  was  fastened  to  a  stick,  and  stuck 
flag  fashion  into  the  ground  close  to  the  dead  game, 
with  the  object  of  frightening  away  the  wolves  and  bears— 
a  precaution  which  for  the  first  night  is  often  effectual 


Camps  among  Wapiti.  141 

Then  the  great  gun  and  the  small  boy  got  on  the  top  of 
the  pony,  which  the  latter  did  by  using  the  former  as  a 
sort  of  leaping  pole.  It  was  quite  dark  by  this  time,  aiid 
being  in  a  perfectly  strange  country,  I  gladly  availed 
myself  of  the  boy's  invitation  to  partake  of  a  "  squar*  " 
meal,"  and  share  a  buffalo  robe  with  his  big  brother, 
rather  than  chance  losing  my  way  in  the  forest,  especially 
as  the  boy  had  informed  me  that  next  day  some  grand 
sport  could  be  enjoyed.  A  big  gang  of  elk,  numbering, 
he  said,  quite  2000,  had  been  seen  by  him  in  the  afternoon, 
a  small  detached  portion  of  which  he  had  struck  later  on, 
and  out  of  which  ho  had  killed  his  stag. 

His  home  was  several  miles  off,  so  trudging  at  the 
rider's  side,  he  was  soon  tolling  me  of  his  shooting,  or,  as 
he  called  it,  "  gunning."  His  father  had  moved  to  the 
neighbourhood  three  or  four  years  pieviously,  when 
Indians  were  still  roaming  through  the  Laramie  Peak 
country.  lie  was  now  making  a  living  as  market-hunter, 
supplying  the  next  settlement,  forty-five  miles  distant, 
with  game,  selling  it  all  to  one  man,  who  kept  a  "  road- 
ranche  "  (inn),  and  at  the  same  time  was  the  grocer,  dry- 
goods  store  keeper,  sheriff,  and  postmaster  of  the  settlement. 
All  game — only  the  hind-quarters  are  used  for  food^ 
fetched  three  cents  per  pound  ( 1  Jd.),  which,  however,  was  not 
paid  in  cash,  but  in  kind  -  coffee,  sugar,  flour,  ammunition, 
and  all  those  numerous  articles  in  which  a  Western 
merchant  deals.  Money  they  hardly  ever  saw  ;  horses 
and  cattle  were  traded— a  certain  number  of  sacks  of 
flour  or  pounds  of  plug  tobacco  forming  the  usual  base 
of  their  barter.  In  due  time  we  reached  the  log  shanty, 
Blanding  in  a  wide  clearing,  fenced  in  by  stout  rails. 
Here  the  stock  wa»  kept  during  night,  while  in  daytime 


142  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

the  horses  and  cows  grazed  over  the  mountains.  Loud 
barking,  and  a  peculiar  shrill  call,  answered  by  the  boy 
with  a  loud  halloo,  gave  us  a  welcome.  A  flood  of  light 
issued  from  the  open  doorway,  and  a  crowd  of  men,  half- 
grown  youths,  and  two  or  three  women,  were  soon  grouped 
round  the  tired  old  horse.  A  minute  later  I  had  found 
my  way  into  the  hut,  where  a  kindly  '*  Come  right  in, 
stranger,"  welcomed  me. 

The  hut,  about  fifteen  feet  by  eighteen  feet,  was  divided 
into  two  compartments,  one  the  kitchen  and  living  room,  the 
other  the  sleeping-quarters  for  the  females  and  two  married 
couples,  while  the  sons  were  housed  in  a  barn  close  by. 
Everything  looked  clean  and  comfortable,  though  ex- 
ceedingly primitive.  Wapiti  skins  lined  the  walls,  and 
buffalo  robes  formed  the  carpet,  while  a  large  table  in  the 
centre  was  laid  out  for  supper,  with  plates  and  cups  of 
tin,  and  buckhorn  knives  and  forks.  Everything  but  the 
cooking  and  eating  utensils  was  home  made,  from  the 
buckskin  garments  of  the  men  to  the  coarse  homespun 
dresses  of  the  women.  A  large  rack,  occupying  one 
wall,  held  some  twelve  or  fifteen  different  arms,  from  the 
Winchester  repeater — bartered,  as  the  father  presently 
informed  me,  for  a  bale  of  otter  and  wolf  skins,  the  real 
value  of  which  was  perhaps  ten  times  the  price  of  the 
cheap  gun — to  the  antiquated  Kentucky  pea  rifle.  Every 
arm  had  its  name.  Here  was  an  "  Uncle  Ephraim  "  or  a 
"Track-maker,"  there  an  "Aunt  Sally"  and  a  "Sister 
Julia ;"  and  every  one  had  some  special  degree  of  merit  and 
long  gunning  yarns  attached  to  it.  Besides  the  father 
and  mother,  three  sons,  and  two  daughters,  there  were  just 
then  on  a  visit  an  aunt,  with  two  half-grown  sons  and  a 
little  girl,  so  that  the  supper-table,  of  ample  proportions, 


Camps  among  Wapiti,  143 

was  somewhat  crowded.  The  ring  of  faces,  from  the  old 
man's  grizzled  head  to  the  seven-year- old  damsel's  fresh 
little  physiognomy,  afforded  an  interesting  study.  Happy 
content  was  impressed  upon  every  feature,  and  soon  loud 
laughter  rang  through  the  tumble-down  shanty.  Except 
a  certain  primitiveness  of  manner,  there  was  little  to 
remind  one  of  the  isolated  position  of  this  little  community. 
The  next  settlement  of  whites  was  forty-five  miles  away, 
and  except  the  grown-up  son,  who  in  summer  and  autumn 
took  the  game  in  a  heavy  waggon  once  or  twice  every 
fortnight  to  market,  none  of  the  members  ever  came  into 
contact  with  civilization.  In  winter  they  were  entirely 
blocked  up,  the  narrow  glen  through  which  communication 
was  alone  possible  becoming  impassable.  The  newest 
paper  was  four  months  old,  and  for  winter  literature  a 
bale  of  old  illustrated  weeklies  were  annually  traded  for 
wolfskins,  and  these  were  the  only  *'  reading  matter  "  the 
family  possessed.  In  the  presence  of  their  elders  the 
young  fellows'  conversation  exhibited  a  marked  absence 
of  foul-mouthed  language,  in  which  they  otherwise 
indulged  with  remarkable  force  of  expression. 

Many  an  amusing  yarn  of  their  gunning  adventures 
and  primitive  life  enlivened  the  evening  hours,  and  it  was 
late  when  I  and  the  sons  and  cousins  retired  to  our  barn, 
if  such  a  building  could  be  called,  having  only  three 
walls,  and  breezy  spaces  quite  six  inches  wide  between 
the  beams  of  which  it  was  built.  Hides  were  nailed  on 
the  outside  to  dry,  and  a  row  of  Wapiti  hind- quarters 
were  hung  on  the  top  beam.  In  the  middle  of  the  night 
I  was  awakened  by  deep  formidable  growls,  and  con- 
stant scratching  on  the  beams  close  to  where  I  lay.  Not 
knowing  what  to  make  of  it,  I  awoke  my  neighbour,  who^ 


£44  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

on  listening  for  a  second,  quieted  me  by  telling  me  tbey 
were  only  "bar''  trying  to  reach  the  wapiti  quarters. 
Two  minutes  later  he  was  snoring  again,  evidently  less  put 
out  by  a  bear's  visit  than  I  was.  We  were  up  before 
sunrise,  and  when,  after  a  dip  in  the  icy-cold  waters  of  a 
neighbouring  stream,  I  reached  the  hut,  I  found  the 
family  already  assembled  at  breakfast. 

Everybody,  except  the  youngest  daughter  and  the  little 
niece,  was  going  after  the  **gang"  of  elk.  The  ponies 
(some  nine  or  ten)  were  already  hitched  to  posts  in  front 
of  the  shanty,  and  all  the  antiquated  rifles — the  "  Sister 
Julia,"  "  Track-maker,"  and  **  Greased  Lightning,''  the 
latter  being  the  name  of  my  dwarf  friend's  shooting-iron 
— were  cleaned  and  laid  ready  for  use.  The  little  hunt- 
ing party  presented  a  quaint  and  yet  not  unpicturesque 
sight— men  and  youths,  women  and  girls,  all,  male  and 
female  alike,  armed  with  long  rifles  and  revolvers,  and 
mounted  on  shaggy  ponies— and  certainly  it  had  about  it 
the  spice  of  novelty.  After  hearty  good-byes  to  the 
young  girl  and  the  child  standing  in  the  open  doorway, 
we  started  off*  at  a  round  pace.  Old  Newland — for  that 
is  the  name  of  this  isolated  family — lent  me  a  horse 
for  the  day,  as  I  was  eager  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  this 
big  gang.  The  previous  evening  young  Newland  had 
seen  them  some  nine  or  ten  miles  off",  going  in  a  westerly 
direction  ;  it  was  therefore  decided  to  make  sure  of  them 
by  cutting  them  off"  on  their  usual  route,  well  known 
to  the  family,  for  it  was  the  usual  autumn  move  of  elk. 
The  party  kept  together,  except  my  boy  friend  and  I, 
and  by  going  in  a  more  westerly  direction,  sought  to  strike 
the  band  before  the  main  body  came  up.  We  had  not 
gone  far  when  I  saw  two  big  bulls  moving  over  a  very 


Camps  among  Wapiti,  145 

iteep  slope  on  the  peak,  at  the  base  of  which  we  were 
riding.  We  at  once  came  to  a  dead  halt,  and  decided  to 
follow  them  on  foot,  the  ground  being  too  broken  and 
steep  for  horses  to  venture  on.  The  elk  evidently  did  not 
belong  to  the  main  gang,  for  they  were  coming  from  an 
entirely  different  direction.  Irobably  they  were  in  sight 
or  had  the  wind  of  the  herd,  and  were  now  about  to  join 
them.  Dismounting,  we  climbed  the  precipitous  mountain 
side,  rising,  at  an  angle  of  quite  fifty  degrees,  as  rapidly 
as  we  could,  and  in  the  course  of  about  twenty  minutes 
had  reached  the  spot  where  I  had  seen  them.  Turning, 
suddenly  round,  I  saw  spread  out  at  our  feet,  some  four  or 
five  hundred  feet  below  us,  and  perhaps  half  a  mile  off, 
a  plateau,  on  which  were  grazing  a  vast  number  of 
Wapiti,  It  needed  not  the  boy's  *'  That  be  them,"  to 
assure  me  that  it  was  the  big  gang.  Sitting  down  on  a 
convenient  rock,  I  had  a  long  look  with  my  glass,  en- 
deavouring to  get  some  correct  estimate  of  the  number. 
That  there  were  not  two  thousand,  I  saw  very  soon. 
There  were  three  large  groups,  each  of  about  four  or  five 
hundred,  and  each  again  divided  into  smaller  bands. 
They  were  moving  slowly  westward,  grazing  as  they  pro- 
ceeded. It  was  a  grand  sight,  especially  to  one  who  had 
never  before  witnessed  the  like. 

Knowing  that  the  main  party  would  strike  them 
presently,  we  decided  to  follow  the  two  big  bulls  we  had 
first  sighted.  The  ground  was  excessively  broken,  and 
covered  with  loose  stones,  making  it  nigh  impossible  to 
move  noiselessly  with  boots  or  shoes.  The  urchin,  with 
his  soft  moccasins — to  which,  at  that  period  of  my  trip, 
I  had  not  yet  taken — had  naturally  great  advantage  over 
me,  and  he  took  a  special  delight  in   leading  me  over 

L 


146  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

the  roughest  ground,  where  stones  were  constantly  set 
rolling  by  my  awkwardly  heavy  shooting-boots.  Jumping 
from  rock  to  rock,  his  huge  rifle,  carried  in  his  right  hand, 
used  as  "  alpenstock  *'  to  steady  himself,  the  little  fellow 
moved  along  at  a  very  rapid  pace.  We  soon  sighted  the 
bulls,  who  were  trudging  along  a  small  dry  watercourse 
half  a  mile  off.  Here  my  youngster  got  excited,  and, 
forging  ahead  at  a  '*  level ''  run,  I  was  left  behind,  with 
no  chance  of  approaching  the  game  with  the  necessary 
noiselessness. 

Scrambling  up  the  next  high  rock,  I  scanned  the 
ground,  and  saw  that  the  ravine  selected  by  the  bulls 
turned  sharply  some  few  hundred  yards  ahead,  enabling 
me,  by  crossing  a  slope  of  huge  boulders  thrown  pell-mell 
together,  to  cut  off  the  game  should  they  remain  in  the 
gulcL  There  was  no  need  to  keep  quiet;  so,  putting 
my  best  foot  forward,  I  ran,  or  rather  leaped,  the  dis- 
tance in  good  time.  On  reaching  the  desired  spot  I  saw 
the  two  Wapiti  right  under  me,  still  in  the  watercourse,  and 
the  moccasined  boy-stalker  just  settling  down  to  open  fire 
at  eighty  or  ninety  yards.  I  had  run  nearly  as  far  as  he 
had,  but  was  considerably  ''pumped,"  and,  besidos,  my 
shot  would  be  quite  double  or  treble  as  far  as  his.  Before 
he  had  time  to  shoot,  the  game  had  got  my  wind,  and 
swerving  sharply,  ascended  the  very  precipitous  sides  of 
the  gulch.  Whipping  out  my  glass,  I  watched  the  boy's 
fire.  Taking  the  leader  first,  which  was  the  smaller  of 
the  two,  he  hit  him  out  of  his  seven  shots  every  time,  but 
BO  indifferently  that  the  stag's  morements  were  not  im- 
peded. 

They  were  now  close  to  the  top,  and  twenty  yards  more 
would  take  them  out  of  our  si^ht.     I  had  to  fire  over  the 


Camps  among  Wapitu  147 

boy's  head,  as  the  last  movement  of  the  game  had  brought 
him  right  between  them  and  me.  The  boy  evidently  had 
never  heard  an  Express  bullet  ping  over  his  head,  for 
immediately  after  my  first  shot  he  jumped  up,  evidently 
not  a  little  startled.  A  second,  third,  and  fourth  followed 
in  quick  succession,  passing  some  fifteen  or  twenty  feet 
over  his  head ;  and  when  my  fire  came  to  an  end,  both 
bulls  and  the  boy  were  lying  stretched  on  the  ground 
— the  two  former  dead,  the  latter  sorely  put  out  by  **  that 
thar  singing  cannon,'*  as  he  persisted  in  naming  my  '500 
bore  Express,  which,  before  he  had  seen  its  efiect  and 
heard  its  report,  had  appeared  to  him  somewhat  popgun- 
like in  comparison  to  his  punt  rifle.  We  found  both  bulls 
to  be  good- sized  animals,  but  with  small  heads,  which 
seemed,  however,  very  fine  ones  just  then.  The  bigger 
one  had  his  buck  broken  by  my  Express,  and  no  other 
injury ;  the  other  one  was  riddled  by  bullets — the  boy's 
seven  and  one  of  mine,  which  latter  had  knocked  him 
over.  It  was  my  first  Wapiti — indeed,  the  first  one  I  had 
ever  shot  at — and  of  course  I  was  highly  elated  with  my 
success.  Moreover,  the  boy  paid  me  the  compliment  that, 
for  a  *'  tenderfoot,"  I  had  done  "  mighty  well.'*  Higher 
still  did  I  rise  in  his  esteem  when  I  presented  him  with 
my  bull,  hide  and  all,  reserving  only  the  head. 

Being  anxious  to  return  to  my  cainp,  where  I  knew  my 
people  would  hi  uneasy  on  my  behalf,  I  left  the  boy  skin- 
ning the  animals,  and  again  to  dive  into  his  gory  hiding- 
place,  and  struck  off  across  the  range  to  where  my  camp 
was  situated.  On  reaching  the  height  I  saw  with  my 
glass,  four  or  five  miles  away,  the  big  gang,  now  moving  at 
a  rapid  pace,  followed  by  black  spots  dodging  about  the 
herd.    Three  hours  later  I  was  back  in  my  camp.    Months 

L  2 


148  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

afterwards  I  heard  the  result  of  their  big  "  fall  *'  hunt 
They  killed  that  day,  if  I  remember  rightly,  some  twenty 
odd  head. 

To  strike  Wapiti  where  there  are  plenty  is  not  so  much 
a  matter  of  luck — as  is  the  case,  for  instance,  with  bear — 
but  rather  the  result  of  an  accurate  knowledge  of  the 
ground  your  expedition  intends  to  cover.  Where  there 
will  be  hundreds  in  September,  there  may  not  be  a  single 
head  six  weeks  later. 

So,  for  instance,  in  the  Laramie  Peak  country  I  doubt 
if  there  was  a  Wapiti  there  a  week  before  "moving  time." 
I  had  been  there  for  two  or  three  weeks,  and  had  not  come 
across  a  single  track.  This  was  several  years  ago  (1879), 
and  now,  I  suppose,  not  even  while  ''  moving  *'  do  these 
animals  visit  that  otherwise  very  handy  range  of  mountains. 
A  week  after  this  not  unsuccessful  debut,  we  struck  a 
favourite  whistling-place  of  elk.  It  was  in  the  eastern 
extremities  of  the  Rattlesnake  Range,  where  the  peculiar 
formation  of  the  barren  **  bad-lands  "  is  here  and  there 
rendered  less  repulsive  by  the  occasional  presence  of 
forests  growing  on  level  plateaux,  formed  by  deep  eroded 
ravines  cutting  up  the  whole  country  into  a  number  of 
flat- topped  hills,  of  much  the  same  height  but  varying 
extent.  The  one  we  were  about  to  visit  was  a  solid  square ; 
the  sides,  about  400  feet  high,  were,  if  not  absolutely  pre- 
cipices, yet  of  amazing  steepness,  and  none  but  Western 
horses  could  have  scrambled  to  the  top.  It  was  no  easy 
matter  to  find  a  practicable  approach,  and  I  remember  we 
went  very  nearly  round  the  entire  mountain  square  before 
we  found  a  Wapiti  trail  broad  enough  to  allow  our  pack- 
horses  to  pass  up.  The  top  was  about  four  miles  in  cir- 
cumference, and,  as  I  have  said,  comparatively  level ;  in 


Camps  among  Wapiti,  149 

the  centre  a  grass- covered  barren,  while  a  fringe  of  very 
dense  forest  formed  the  outer  circle.  On  this  land- girt 
island,  as  one  might  call  it,  there  were  a  couple  of  good 
springs  of  water,  and  the  barren  was  covered  with  peculiarly 
fine  bunch -grass.  After  rather  an  eventful  ascent  up 
the  narrow  trail,  with  the  precipice  on  one  side,  for 
our  horses  were  as  yet  unaccustomed  to  this  kind  of 
work,  we  reached  the  top,  and  found  not  only  the 
forest  but  also  the  open  literally  swarming  with  Wapiti. 
We  were  not  yet  quite  beyond  the  fringe  of  fron- 
tier settlements,  a  Fort  was  fifty  miles  off,  and  a  ranche 
not  more  than  five-aud-thirty ;  but  the  remarkably  unso- 
phisticated fearlessness  of  the  game,  which  to  me  then  was 
most  surprising,  and  the  absence  of  the  slightest  trace  to 
indicate  that  human  beings  had  ever  been  there,  led  us  to 
suppose  that  except  Indians,  who  were  still  roaming  about 
the  neighbourhood,  the  forbidding  nature  of  the  surround- 
ing country,  whicl^  was  a  desert-like  wild,  had  kept  off 
human  approach.  We  pitched  camp  where  forest  and 
barren  met,  right  in  the  middle,  as  it  were,  of  whistling 
Wapiti.  We  could  see  them  from  the  camp-fire,  as  half  a 
mile  off  they  were  grazing  on  the  barren.  Our  noon  meal 
over,  which  I  hastened  as  much  as  I  could,  to  the  disgust,  I 
am  afraid  of  the  men.  Port  and  I  left  for  a  stalk,  if  so  the 
ludicrously  easy  approach  to  the  unwary  game  deserved 
to  be  called.  The  only  thing  to  which  attention  had  to  be 
paid  was  the  wind.  With  that  in  our  favour.  Port 
actually  brought  me  up  to  within  sixty  or  eighty  yards  of 
a  band  grazing  on  the  level  open,  quite  500  yards  from 
the  nearest  trees  or  bushes.  Of  course  we  had  to  wriggle 
along,  seeking  cover  behind  straggling  and  stunted  sage- 
brush, not  higher  than  ten  or  twelve  inches. 


1 50  Camps  in  the  Rochies, 

This  was  my  first  lesson  in  "Western  stalking,  and  strangely 
easy  it  seemed  to  me,  though,  I  cannot  deny  the  glorious 
sight  of  many  hundreds  of  splendid  stags,  with  heads  which 
then  seemed  of  the  very  largest  dimensions,  but  which  now 
would  appear  very  moderate  ones,*  carried  me  away,  and 
awoke  that  reprehensible  love  of  slaughter  inherent  in 
most  men's  natures.  Picking  out  only  the  very  best  heads 
I  made  an  easy  right  and  left,  my  first  one  at  this  grand 
game,  the  next  two  shots  being  misses,  or  next  to  it,  for 
one  of  them  grazed  my  third  bull's  back,  while  with  my 
fifth  I  grassed  him.  I  had  killed  the  three  biggest  stags 
out  of  the  herd,  and  though  I  could  have  continued  ping- 
ing away  with  my  long-range  Express,  I  had  sufficient 
control  over  myself  to  eschew  putting  fresh  cartridges  into 
the  rifle.  Not  so,  however,  when  after  gralloching  and 
sawing  off  the  horns  of  the  victims,  we  struck  a  mile  or  so 
further  on  another  band.  Among  them  again  some  fine 
antlers,  of  which  I  secured  three  pairs,  thus  acquitting 
myself  (as  I  had  stalked  the  latter  by  myself)  to  theentii*e 
satisfaction  of  Port,  who  was  usually  not  given  to  pay 
compliments.  By  the  end  of  the  second  day  in  this 
natural  game-park,  I  had  enough  of  Wapiti  shooting — or 
rather,  the  wanton  waste  that  I  would  have  perpetrated 
had  I  continued  to  let  my  rifle  have  free  scope,  would 
have  been  unjustifiably  great,  for  beyond  our  own  im- 
mediate wants  and  a  couple  of  pony-loads  of  meat  I  had 
promised  the  people  at  the  nearest  ranche,  there  were,  in 
the  absence  of  Indians,  no  other  customers  for  the  venison. 
I   killed   nine   bulls — all   good   heads — ^in   that   locality, 

*  The  size  of  Wapiti  antlers  varies  considerably.  The  largest  ai-e 
never  found  on  the  Plains,  but  always  in  high  altitudes,  in  timber ; 
at  least  this  is  the  general  opinion  of  all  trustworthy  huntere,  and  if 
fully  borne  out  by  my  own  experience. 


Camps  among  Wapiti.  1 5 1 

and,  without  exaggeration,  could  easily  have  trebled  the 
number.  My  men,  I  need  not  say,  were  somewhat  amused 
at  this,  for  they  very  well  saw  how  my  hands  itched  to 
grab  for  the  Express  every  time  a  Wapiti  broke  cover 
near  us.  The  "Western  hunter  seems  to  fancy  the  game 
resources  of  his  home  perfectly  limitless,  and  exhibits  a 
supreme  indifference  to  the  reverse  side  of  the  "  first  come 
first  served,"  hence  is  often  astonished  at  what  he  calls 
English  squeamishness.  To  a  friend  a  Western  guide 
once  said,  "  You  have  come  a  good  many  thousand  miles 
to  shoot,  and  now  that  we  have  at  last  struck  game  where 
it  is  plenty,  you  shrink  from  depriving  the  rascally  Red- 
skins or  a  parcel  of  skin-hunters  of  what  is  just  as  much 
yours  as  theirs.  Certainly  you  Britishers  are  strange 
chaps."  We  remained  a  day  or  two  longer,  but  I  devoted 
my  attentions  exclusively  to  Bighorn,  the  tracks  of  whom 
we  had  seen  on  some  very  broken  bad- land  cliffs  on 
the  Western  extremity  of  our  "park.''  Except  in  the 
perfectly  wild  regions,  such  as  the  Wind  River  and 
Soshone  Ranges,  I  have  never  seen  game  so  fearless  as 
in  this  spot.  One  morning  we  found  a  grouse  perched 
on  the  sailcloth  that  covered  our  buffalo-robe  beds.  Only 
when  the  inmate  threw  his  rugs  back  did  the  bird  take 
flight.  Antelope  bucks,  always  curious  at  this  season  of 
the  year,  used  to  approach  quite  close,  eyeing  the  blaze 
of  the  camp-fire  with  astonishment. 

Stalking  on  bright  moonlight  nights  during  the  stags' 
putting  season  has  ever  been  one  of  my  favourite  sports ; 
and  of  the  many  good  harts  I  have  killed  in  the  Old  World, 
to  none  are  attached  such  pleasant  recollections  as  to 
those  few  rolled  over  after  a  long  and  exciting  stalk 
through  the  tranquil  hours  of  a  fine  moonlight  October 
night  in  the  Alps.     At  first  disappointed  on  missing  the 


152  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

blood-stirring  "call"  of  the  European  ^' royal"  as  lie 
challenges  his  foe  across  valley  and  tarn,  the  whistle  of  the 
American  stag  has,  as  I  have  already  said,  a  weird  charm 
not  easily  to  describe.  Every  kind  of  stalking  is  much 
easier  in  the  New  than  in  the  Old  World,  not  only  on 
account  of  the  greater  quantities  and  greater  fearlessness 
of  the  game,  but  also  owing  to  the  nature  of  the  ground, 
and  to  the  fact  that  during  autumn  the  wind  blows 
constantly  from  the  same  point,  changing  only  at  the 
approach  of  bad  weather.  All  these  circumstances  com- 
bine in  making  Wapiti  hunting  a  toilless  pleasure — 
in  fact,  in  the  long-run  rather  too  much  so.  There 
are  few  of  those  exciting  moments  when,  with  breath 
indrawn  the  little  finger  is  wetted  to  discover  the  direc- 
tion of  the  breeze,  which  with  us  is  of  such  changeful 
temper;  none  of  those  memorable  half-hours  stretched 
motionless  at  full  length  in  the  grass,  pendent  with 
heavy  dew,  as  with  beating  heart  you  watch  the  stag 
issue  from  the  sombre  forest  heavy  with  the  fragrant 
perfume  of  the  pine,  stalking  forth  in  aU  the  strength  and 
pride  of  a  monarch  on  to  the  little  dell  where  the  bright 
moonlight  throws  quaint  shadows  of  his  noble  proportions, 
his  breath  issuing  from  his  dilated  nostrils  upon  the  frosty 
air  in  vapoury  clouds  blending  with  the  gauze  layer  of 
luminous  steam  which  envelopes  Mother  Earth.  No  proud 
call  re-echoes  through  the  silent  night  from  crag  to  crag 
those  welcome  seconds  during  which,  with  bared  feet  and 
crouching  form,  the  blood  rushing  wildly  through  your 
tingling  veins,  you  stride  over  fallen  trees,  cross  the  dark 
brook,  wending  your  noiseless  step  through  the  maze  of 
lichened  pines,  as,  with  your  rifle  to  your  shoulder,  you 
approach  the  heedless   quarry,   thereby  betrayed.     And 


Camps  among  Wapiti,  153 

no  sucli  experiences  as,  when  you  have  approached  to  within 
a  dozen  yards  and  already  perceive  through  the  network 
of  brush  and  pine  branches  the  faint  outline  of  the  stag 
lit  up  by  a  fitful  moonbeam,  you  behold  him  suddenly  dash 
away,  and  with  inflated  neck,  bristling  hair,  and  head 
thrown  well  back,  crash  through  the  dense  timber :  for 
upon  his  fine  ear  there  has  re-echoed  an  answering  call 
to  his  challenge,  and  long  before  you  have  time  to  feel 
your  discomfiture  your  quarry  is  far  away,  rushing  on- 
ward to  meet  his  rival  in  combat. 

In  European  wild  preserves,  let  them  be  ever  so  well 
stocked,  such  a  chance  does  not  present  itself  twice  in  the 
course  of  one  night.  If  you  have  either  alarmed  or  missed 
your  stag,  further  pursuit  is  useless  for  that  occasion,  while 
here  ten  minutes  will  put  you  on  the  track  of  another  call- 
ing Wapiti.  It  is  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  the  Western 
chase  is  after  some  experience  found  to  be  wanting  in  some 
of  the  more  refined  charms  of  the  same  pursuit  in  Europe. 
While  in  the  Old  World  you  are  not  as  a  rule  over- 
fastidious  regarding  the  size  of  the  head  you  bag,  in  the 
New  World  great  slaughter  would  be  the  necessary  con- 
sequence of  indiscriminate  shooting.  The  excitement 
incidental  to  the  first  "  go  *'  at  a  herd  of  great  stags  of 
which  I  have  spoken  wears  ofi"  very  quickly,  and  soon  you 
recognize  the  necessity  of  shooting  only  those  with  first- 
class  antlers  worth  the  endless  trouble  and  bother  of 
transportation.  Bright  as  the  moonlight  is,  it  is  never- 
theless very  hard  to  tell  the  size  of  heads ;  and  the  four 
or  five  Wapiti  I  have  rolled  over  on  such  occasions,  have 
invariably  turned  out  to  be  smaller  than  I  anticipated 
when  I  shot  them. 


154  Camps  in  the  Rocki4Sm 


CHAPTER  VL 

CAMPS  ON   THB  TRAIL   OF  THE   BIGHORN. 

Sporting  trophies — Newness  of  tbe  landscape — Mauvaises  terre»^> 
The  Bighorn  at  home — Size  and  weight — Fremont  and  De  Saus- 
snre — Peculiarities  of  the  Bighorn — My  big  ram — How  I  lost 
my  measuring-tape — Sheep-eater  Indians — Scab. 

From  my  earliest  youtli  the  breezy  heights  of  the  Alps 
have  been  my  favourite  playground.  Before  I  entered 
the  teens  it  was  my  boyish  ambition  to  roam  for  days  at 
a  time  in  Alpine  regions  on  or  above  Timberline  ;  at  first 
attended  by  a  keeper,  but  soon,  at  my  pressing  request, 
trusted  to  my  own  faculties  to  find  my  way  out  of  the 
sundry  little  scrapes  into  which  my  youthful  ardour  for 
sport  was  apt  to  lead  me.  Later  on,  days  extended  into 
weeks — not  always  of  sunny  summer  and  clear  autumn, 
but  frequently  of  frosty  winter  weather,  which  sent  fierce 
snowstorms  whirling  around  the  peaks  and  passes  I  used 
to  haunt.  The  reader,  who  will,  perhaps,  excuse  these 
very  irrelevant  reminiscences,  can  therefore  imagine  that 
I  visited  the  uplands  of  the  Rockies  with  expectations  by 
no  means  very  modest.  The  one  or  two  specimens  of 
Bighorn  I  had  seen  in  European  collections,  and  especially 


Camps  on  the  Trail  of  the  Bighorn.        1 55 

some  heads  friends  brought  from  the  American  wilds,  had 
roused  in  me  the  wish  to  ''  go  and  do  likewise  "  (N.B.,  if 
possible,  better) ;  for,  in  truth,  there  is  no  more  covetous 
being  than  the  articled  apprentice  to  the  craft  of  venery, 
and  decidedly  there  is  no  sight  more  apt  to  send  him  over 
Oceans  and  across  Continents  than  such  trophies  as  the 
majestic  horns  of  a  really  good  ram,  or  the  huge  branch- 
ing antlers  of  a  fine  Wapiti  head.  The  former  aflPords,  of 
all  others  in  the  West,  to  the  sportsman  fond  of  old- 
fashioned  stalking,  and  not  over-easily  fatigued  by 
longish  and  often  fruitless  climbs  on  the  weirdly-formed 
mauvams  terres  peaks,  by  far  the  most  interesting  sport. 

To  prevent  further  interruption  to  my  tale  of  the  Big- 
horn-chase, let  me  in  this  place  say  a  few  words  on  the 
main  characteristics  of  his  home.  I  have  called  the  West 
outrageously  new.  Its  newness  is  by  no  means  confined 
to  men,  manners,  and  cities  ;  there  is  something  decidedly 
new  also  about  that  portion  of  the  mountain  scenery  of 
the  Rockies  called  bad-lands. 

The  bold  rock  escarpments  and  clifi*s,  in  places  quite  as 
jagged  as  any  we  have  in  Europe,  the  fissures,  cliffs,  and 
canyons — the  latter  of  unrivalled  depth — one  and  all  betray 
a  nakedness  that  somehow  is  irreconcilable  with  old  age. 
The  absence  of  all  the  beautiful  mosses  and  lichens, 
features  which  that  defiler  of  Nature,  M.  Taine,  in  a  loath- 
some simile,  calls  vegetable  ulcers  and  leprous  spots, 
deprive  the  mountains  of  the  West  of  that  picturesque 
look  of  hoary  age  so  peculiar  to  those  of  most  other 
Continents. 

Nature  seems  to  destroy  and  to  reconstruct  at  a  much 
faster  rate  in  the  New  than  in  the  Old  World.  Land- 
ilips  seem  to  be  ever  at  work  in  despoiling  slopes  of  the 


156  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

greensward;  and  before  a  new  coat  of  vegetation  can 
spring  up,  and  thus  hide  the  mountain's  glaring  n^iked- 
ness,  a  repetition  of  the  disaster  again  wrecks  the  scene. 
The  extremes  of  heat  and  cold,  liable,  as  I  have  said,  to 
vary  as  much  as  from  eighty  to  ninety  degrees  in  the 
course  of  day  and  night,  and  the  remarkable  dryness "  of 
the  atmosphere,  chip  the  rocks  and  fray  the  outline  of 
the  cliffs  with  an  energetic  aggressiveness  well  in  keeping 
with  the  power  which  distinguishes  natural  as  well  as 
human  forces  in  the  West. 

Where  bad-lands,  or  mauvaisea  terres — the  name 
given  to  them  by  the  old  Canadian  coureura  de  hois — 
occur,  the  whole  country,  often  many  thousands  of  square 
miles  in  extent,  lacks  the  upper  crust  of  vegetation,  which 
seems  to  have  been  carried  off  by  some  great  flood,  and 
left  only  ruins  behind  it.  Not  only  is  the  general  aspect 
one  of  utter  decay,  but  the  very  outlines  of  these  singular 
geological  formations  have  about  them  a  resemblance  to 
great  architectural  works  that  have  fallen  to  pieces.  But 
this,  the  reader  will  exclaim,  is  surely  contradicting 
the  newness  of  the  landscape  with  which  I  introduced 
these  remarks.  Ruins  are,  however,  not  necessarily  the 
result  of  age.  Nowhere  does  the  traveller  come  across 
80  many  signs  of  deplorable  decay  as  just  in  the  West. 
He  can  see  entire  "  cities,"  erected  a  few  years  back,  and 
inhabited  by  several  thousands  of  eager  miners,  totally 
deserted  and  slowly  crumbling  to  ruin,  the  playthings  of 
gales  and  dry- rot.  In  his  wanderings  through  the 
remoter  portions  of  the  country  he  will  frequently  come 
upon  abandoned  log- dwellings,  but  a  few  months  before 
the  home  of  families,  and  now  a  sad  picture  of  desolation. 
In  like  manner  must  we  judge  of  the  ruins  of  Naturej 


Camps  071  the  Trail  of  the  Bighorn.       157 

Qowhere  more  strikingly  presented  than  in  the  bad- 
lands. The  lifeless  waste  is  not  the  work  of  immeasur- 
able eternity,  but  the  result  of  geologic  changes  of  com- 
paratively recent  origin. 

Geologists  tell  us  that  notwithstanding  their  altitude 
vast  inland  seas  occupied  the  present  site  of  bad-lands.  * 
The  spires,  pinnacles,  towers,  or  more  compact  chains, 
standing  either  isolated  or  in  semi-detached  masses,  are 
the  remains  of  the  once  more  or  less  level  bottom  of  the 
lakes,  water  having  carved  them  by  erosion  into  their 
present  shape,  which,  to  make  a  very  homely  comparison, 
one  might  liken  to  the  channelled  surface  of  a  walnut 
kernel.  In  a  country  where  scientific  exploration  dates 
back  for  not  more  than  fifteen  or  twenty  years,  it  is  next 
to  impossible  to  mark  the  stride  of  Nature's  revolutions. 
In  one  or  two  instances,  however,  we  are  enabled  to 
ascertain  details  concerning  the  mysterious  drying  up  of 
lakes,  and  the  changed  aspect  of  bad  land  formation. 
Thus,  it  is  known  that  the  country  along  the  upper  valley 
of  the  Mississippi  and  Red  River  of  the  North  has  either 
risen  or  dried  up.  The  water  level  of  lakes  within 
forty  miles  of  St.  Paul  has  sunk  six  feet  in  twenty- 
five  years,  and  men  are  living  who  knew  hunters  who  at 
one  time  canoed  over  portions  of  the  Red  River  Yalley, 
which  is  350  miles  long,  and  from  70  to  100  in  width.^ 

The  levels  of  all  lakes  in  the  West,  including  the  great 

*  King,  in  his  "  Sierras,"  page  185,  says  :  "  During  the  cretaceous 
and  tertiary  periods,  the  entire  basin  from  the  Rocky  Mountains  to 
the  Blue  Mountains  of  Oregon  was  a  fresh-water  lake."  Professor  A. 
Geikie  gives  a  very  lucid  description  of  bad-lands,  in  Macmillan^ 
July,  1881,  which  is  well  worth  reading.     See  Appendix. 

*  Report  of  the  Commissioners  of  the  Royal  Agricultural  Interest* 
Commission,  who  visited  the  United  States  in  187^. 


158  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

Salt  Lake,  in  Utah,  are  known  to  be  sinking ;  and  to  mention 
the  entire  disappearance  of  a  lake  within  the  past  five-and- 
twenty  years,  the  instance  of  the  Market  Lake,  in  Idaho, 
can  be  quoted.  Lying  in  the  Snake  River  Valley,  it  was 
visited  by  a  Government  expedition,  under  Lieutenant 
MuUan,  in  1854.  It  was  then  a  large  and  beautiful  sheet 
of  water,  twelve  or  fourteen  miles  in  length.  Its  site  is 
now  a  dry  sandy  depression.  The  Chimney  Eock,  a 
high  isolated  shaft  of  bad-land  formation,  in  Central 
Wyoming,  standing  close  to  the  old  emigrant  trail,  and 
thus  coming  under  the  notice  of  early  travellers,  was 
measured  in  Fremont's  time,  «.«.  nearly  forty  years  ago, 
and  has  since  that  period  decreased,  so  I  am  told  by  good 
authority,  close  upon  100  feet.  "When  I  passed  it  in 
1879,  the  detritus  constantly  crumbling  from  its  walls  had 
accumulated  in  great  heaps  round  its  base. 

In  colouring,  also.  Western  scenery  exhibits  a  certain 
crudeness,  the  reverse  of  mellow  age.  A  bird's-eye  view 
of  **  bad-land  "  reminds  one  of  early  pictorial  attempts  of 
primitive  races,  who,  when  depicting  works  of  nature, 
were  in  the  habit  of  first  drawing,  in  uncouth  outline,  the 
diagrams  of  what  they  intended  to  represent,  and  then 
filling  them  in  with  colours  quite  arbitrarily  chosen. 
The  compositions  were  not  only  void  of  all  principles  of 
perspective  and  chiaroscuro,  but  also  lacked  the  primary 
condition  of  all  ideal  art — the  harmony  of  tints.  A  broad 
vista  of  such  verdureless  bad- land  "buttes*'  or  peaks, 
lighted  up  by  the  intensely  searching  achromatic  sunlight 
peculiar  to  these  regions,  where  the  glaring  brilliancy  of 
day  is  unrelieved  by  shadow  or  nebulous  half-distances, 
leaves  on  one's  mind  the  impression  of  bizarre  crudenesa 
Wherever  we  glance  we  see  the  sti-atified  bands  of  eucces* 


Camps  on  tJu  Trait  of  the  Bighorn.       15Q 

fiive  layers  of  differently  coloured  conglomerates,  some  ot 
clay-like,  others  of  pumice-like  consistency.  Here  stands 
one  great  isolated  crag,  five  or  six  hundred  feet  in  height. 
The  next  pinnacle  of  equally  fantastic  shape  is  half  a 
mile  off,  yet  it  is  easy  to  see  that  every  one  of  the  six  or 
eight  various  bands  of  disintegrating  rock,  or  the  seams 
of  oxides,  silicates,  sulphates,  or  carbonates  which  are 
very  plainly  visible  on  the  precipitous  faces  of  both, 
exactly  correspond  with  each  other,  and  that  in  both  the 
black,the  brown, the  pea- green, the  purple,  and  the  vermilion 
streaks  follow  each  other  with  the  same  regularity.  These 
bands  being  of  different  homogeneity  offer  not  precisely  the 
same  resistance  to  the  denuding  effects  of  rain  and  frost, 
and  hence  narrow  shelves  are  formed,  that  run  generally 
horizontally,  but  always  parallel  to  each  other  across  the 
precipitous  face  of  the  peak  or  hill.  Generally  these 
ledges  are  not  wider  than  a  few  feet ;  while  in  other  places 
they  will  be  broad,  and  rise  tier-like  from  the  bottom. 
On  these  platforms  there  is  a  very  scanty  growth  of  grass 
— so  scanty  indeed  as  to  be  hardly  perceptible  to  the  eye, 
but  they  are,  nevertheless,  the  favourite  dwelling-places 
of  our  quarry,  the  Bighorn.  Here,  too,  the  stalker  has  a 
good  chance  of  approaching  them  unobserved ;  he  must, 
however,  to  be  able  to  undertake  this,  possess  a  clear  head, 
and  not  know  what  giddiness  is ;  for  often  the  ledges  are 
very  narrow,  and  the  height  of  the  precipice  stupendous. 
Many  an  enjoyable  creep  of  an  hour  or  two  have  I  ven- 
tured, and  many  a  pleasant  family  still-life  scene  have  I 
watched  in  close  proximity,  to  be  finally  rudely  disturbed, 
if  the  paterfamilias  happened  to  have  good  horns,  by  the 
crack  of  my  Express.  In  such  localities  it  was  not 
infrequently  quite  impossible  to  save  any  of  the  meat,  foi 


1 60  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

often  it  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  saw  off  the  horns, 
and,  tying  a  short  cord  to  them,  drag  them  behind  me  as 
I  crept  back  to  safer  ground. 

But  enough  of  this  preamble,  let  us  now  speak  of  tbe 
reality — the  bold  and  majestic  ram,  standing  motionless 
on  yonder  giddy  shelf,  showing  in  perfect  repose  the  classic 
outline  of  his  noble  head  against  the  blue  of  the  Rocky 
Mountain  sky,  as  if  cut  in  cameo  fashion  by  the  deft  hand 
of  a  Grecian  sculptor.  With  his  sturdy,  massive  body,  his 
thick-set  limbs  firmly  planted  on  the  protruding  ledge, 
looking  so  dangerously  fragile  in  comparison  to  its  load, 
his  small  head  carried  high,  as  if  the  heavy  horns  were  a 
mere  feather's  weight,  he  looks  the  emblem,  not  of  agility, 
as  does  the  chamois,  but  of  proud  endurance.  Of  all  game 
that  calls  the  Rocky  Mountains,  peculiar  and  charac- 
teristic as  their  natural  features  are,  its  home,  he  is  the 
truest  t^'pe  of  their  grand  solitude  and  barren  vastness. 

The  Bighorn  {Ovis  Montana),  also  called  Grosse  Corne, 
CimarrSn,  or  Mountain  Sheep,  is  closely  related  to  the 
monster  of  his  species,  the  Nyan  Argali,  or  Ovis  Ammon, 
the  most  famous  game  of  Thibet.  He  is  slightly  smaller, 
but  the  horns  are  very  much  of  the  same  formation, 
curve,  and  monstrous  size.  In  build,  coat,  and  habitat  the 
Bighorn  resembles  the  European  ibex,  perhaps,  more  than 
any  other  animal,  the  chief  exterior  difference  being,  as 
is  perhaps  hardly  necessary  to  say,  the  shape  of  the  horns, 
which  in  the  former  are  curved,  sometimes  like  those  of 
a  domestic  ram,  only  on  a  greatly  magnified  scale. 

Of  few  North  American  game  animals  does  one  meet, 
beyond  the  ocean  with  more  conflicting  accounts  as  to 
its  habitat,  and  round  none  does  there  rest  such  a  halo  of 
romance  and  exaggeration.    Not  only  is  the  Bighorn  often 


Camps  on  the  Trail  of  the  Bighorn.        i6i 

confounded  with  the  mountain  goat,  but  many  authors, 
from  the  earliest  to  the  most  recent,  who  are  not  expe- 
rienced "  gunners,*'  delight  in  promulgating  fabulous 
stories  respecting  it. 

The  horns  of  the  largest  animals  are  of  stupendous  girth, 
and  weigh  as  much  as  forty  pounds.  I  was  fortunate 
enough  to  bag,  among  the  seventy  or  eighty  Bighorn 
1  got,  an  uncommonly  fine  ram,  each  of  his  horns  girthing 
nineteen  inches  at  the  base.  It  is,  or  rather  was — for 
I  lost  this  grand  trophy  by  fire — one  of  the  finest  heads 
killed  by  European  sportsmen,  at  least  to  judge  from  the 
measurements  given  by  numerous  reliable  veterans,  none 
of  whom,  so  far  as  I  know,  shot  any  exceeding  eighteen 
and  a  half  inches.* 

On  another  occasion  I  saw,  and  for  twelve  days  followed, 
an  old  monster  ram,  whose  horns  were,  if  my  eyes  and  glass 
did  not  deceive  me  very  greatly,  even  larger  than  those  of 
my  master  ram.  Very  severe  weather  made  further  pursuit 
impossible ;  but,  as  I  intend  to  look  him  up  again  in  his 
desolate  home,  I  ma)%  if  luck  stands  by  me,  finally  succeed 
in  bagging  that  wonderful  pair — incomparably  the  largest 
I  saw,  and  most  probably  ever  shall  see.  He  had  been 
seen  before  on  several  occasions  by  hunters  and  trappers, 
two  of  whom  I  happened  to  meet,  while  a  sound  ^*  three- 
dayer'*  confined  us  to  our  dug-out,  at  the  base  of  the 
mountain  chain  which  sheltered  this  patriarch.  Not 
k' owing  that  he  had  been  the  centre  of  my  ambition  for 
the  last  fortnight,  they  very  soon  opened  on  the  wonderful 
dimensions  of  this  beast's  horns,  affirming,  with  the  typical 
Western  love  of  romance,  that  they  actually  dragged  on  the 
ground,  assuring  me  they  had  often  seen  the  marks  of  the 
•  See  Appendix  :  Bighorn. 

M 


1 02  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

horns  on  the  snow  on  both  sides  of  the  animaFs  tracks. 
An  attempt  to  outcap  this  was  the  only  way  of  effectually 
Bilencing  these  lovers  of  tall  talk  ;  so,  turning  to  my  com- 
panion, who  was  sitting  at  my  side  in  front  of  the  fire,  I 
said,  "  Port,  don't  you  think  that  must  be  the  very  same 
Bighorn  that  we  tracked  ?  you  know,  the  big  one  that  had 
sleigh  runners  tied  to  his  horns,  and  a  little  wooden  wheel 
on  each  of  his  hind  legs  ?  I  suppose  the  snow  had  got  too 
deep  for  him."  The  twinkle  in  my  companion's  eye  told 
me  that  would  do ;  and  so  it  did,  for  I  was  no  more  bothered 
by  romanceful  hunters'  stories. 

But  to  return  to  the  quarry.  The  weight  of  a  good  five- 
year-old  ram  hardly  exceeds  280  pounds  or  300  pounds 
(Audubon  mentions  the  weight  of  one  as  being  344-pound8), 
though  you  will  often  hear  of  450-pounders,  statements 
which  of  course  lack  the  authority  of  an  Audubon. 
Amongst  the  wonderful  stories  of  the  Bighorn  that  are 
current,  the  most  absurd  is  that  of  their  pitching  them- 
selves headlong  down  precipices,  striking  the  sharp  rocks 
with  their  horns,  and  thereby  breaking  their  fall.  Fremont 
(the  great  explorer)  is  alas !  one  of  the  first  to  start  this 
ridiculous  rumour  in  the  account  of  his  travels  (1842), 
when  describing  the  "  mountain  goat,''  as  he  calls  the 
Bighorn.  He  says  that  "the  use  of  those  huge  horns 
seems  to  be  to  protect  the  animal's  head  in  pitching  down 
precipices  to  avoid  pursuing  wolves.''  How  history  does 
repeat  herself !  De  Saussure,  whose  career  has  many  points 
of  similarity  with  that  of  Fremont,  says  of  the  Swiss 
chamois,  that  "  when  pressed  by  foes,  or  driven  to  places 
from  which  they  cannot  escape,  they  will  hang  themselves 
to  the  rocks  by  the  crook  of  their  horns,  and  thus  perish." 
Mr.  Bufus  Sage,  and  all  the  rest  of  countless  authors  on 


Camps  on  the  Trail  of  the  Bighorn.       163 

the  great  West,  follow  suit,  and  I  am  sorry  to  say  even  an 
Englishman  fell  into  this  trap,  repeating  in  his  lately 
published  work  on  Western  travel  this  wondrous  fable, 
mentioning  as  a  proof  the  scaled  and  dented  appearance  of 
the  horns. 

I  have  never  seen  any  large  herds  of  Bighorn,  about 
fifty  or  sixty  being  the  most,  notwithstanding  the  nu- 
merous stories  afloat  of  bands  of  four  or  five  hundred. 
The  average  number  in  a  herd  is  very  much  less ;  from 
six  to  ten  or  twelve  being  the  most  usual.  Their  rutting 
season  is  in  November,  and  then  the  old  rams,  which  keep 
aloof  from  the  does  and  younger  males  for  the  rest  of  the 
year,  come  down  from  their  solitudes  and  take  the  leader- 
ship of  their  family  herd — a  habit  precisely  similar  to  that 
of  the  ibex.  The  herd  at  this  time  of  the  year  consists 
generally  of  three  or  four  does  with  their  young  ones,  now 
already  half -grown,  and  a  couple  of  two  or  three-year-old 
rams.  The  old  ram  will  during  this  period  be  leader, 
watch,  and  guard ;  herein  again  imitating  the  male  ibex, 
who,  in  distinction  to  chamois — which  have  one  and  the 
same  doe  as  leader  all  the  year  round— assumes  the  duty 
of  the  female  and  acts  in  that  character  during  the  rut- 
ting season.  As  I  often  used  to  watch  herds  for  hours  at 
a  time,  I  became  well  acquainted  with  their  peculiarities. 
One  of  the  strangest  is  the  friendly  relationship  existing 
between  them  and  the  mountain  magpie — about  the  only 
bird  you  see  or  hear  on  the  timberless  barren  mountains, 
which  are  the  favourite  home  of  the  Bighorn.  Small  flocks 
of  ten  or  fifteen  birds  will  settle  down  on  the  backs  of  the 
grazing  bighorns,  and  begin  to  pick  away  very  busily  at 
the  minute  larvae  that  infest  the  scrubby  coat,  two  birds 
often  being  engaged  on  the  same  animal.     I  had  never 

H  2 


164  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

heard  of  this  before,  but  subsequently  found  that  the 
BO-called  moose  bird — a  carrion  bird,  the  size  of  a  thrush 
— does  precisely  the  same  to  the  moose,  ridding  him  of  a 
species  of  tick. 

Bighorn  are,  with  one  exception  only,  at  no  time  to  be 
found  elsewhere  but  on  the  roughest  and  most  forbidding 
rock  formation.  That  one  exception  occurs  after  rutting 
time,  when  the  rams,  in  very  poor  condition,  will  wander 
from  their  crags  to  the  level  plain  land,  where  the  rich 
bunch  grass  helps  to  recuperate  their  strength.  Especially 
if  snow  has  fallen  on  the  higher  ground  will  they  be 
found  feeding,  sometimes  as  much  as  a  mile  from  the  base 
of  the  next  mountain  chain.  I  often  saw,  in  the  month 
of  December,  small  bands  grazing  in  this  manner ;  but  so 
watchful  are  they  on  these  occasions — an  old  doe  being 
constantly  on  guard  duty  on  the  most  prominent  knoll— 
that  it  is  most  difficult  to  approach  them  within  shot. 

Once,  by  a  piece  of  singularly  good  luck,  I  was  enabled 
to  "run''  Bighorn  on  horseback,  killing  my  ram  with  the 
six-shooter.  Easy  as  this  is  with  buffalo,  elk,  antelope, 
and  even  deer,  it  is,  on  account  of  the  habits  of  the  moun- 
tain game,  a  very  rare  instance  of  good  fortune.  Let  me 
narrate  how  it  happened :  — 

On  a  fine  December  morning,  the  air  delightfully  crisp 
and  invigoratingly  light,  I  was  skirting,  on  the  look-out 
for  game,  a  high  sugarloaf- shaped  "  bluff,"  rising  pre- 
cipitously from  the  perfectly  level  highland  plateau  across 
which  we  had  been  already  travelling  for  two  or  three 
days.  Peering  cautiously  round  a  sharp-profiled  rocky 
buttress,  I  discovered,  some  400  yards  away,  lying  in 
the  pleasantly  warm  sunshine,  a  small  band  of  Bighorn. 
Dismounting,  I  ascended  the  rocks  to  a  point  of  view  from 


Camps  on  the  Trail  of  the  Bighorn,       165 

where  I  could  overlook  the  terrain,  and  soon  had  formed 
my  plan  of  operation.  The  Bighorn,  who  had  not  seen 
me,  were  grouped  about  nine  hundred  or  a  thousand  yards 
from  the  main  rocks,  evidently  their  home — a  perfectly 
level  stretch  of  mauvaises  terres  intervening  between  them 
and  the  crags.  Leaving  all  superfluous  kit  and  my  rifle 
at  the  base  of  the  rock,  I  mounted  my  pony — no  other 
than  the  fast  Bessie  mare — and  made  ready  for  a  dash, 
which,  as  I  had  but  600  to  their  900  yards,  promised  to 
be  successful.  Gripping  my  heavy  Colt  revolver,  *  whose 
shooting  qualities  I  had  brought,  by  experiments  in  the 
way  of  lightening  the  pull  and  changing  the  sights,  as 
well  as  by  constant  practice,  to  a  fair  state  of  perfection, 
and  taking  my  mare  well  in  hand,  I  galloped  out  from 
behind  the  big  rocks  that  had  hidden  me.  The  first 
few  yards  brought  me  into  full  view  of  my  game,  who, 
dashing  up  and  gazing  for  one  second  at  the  unwonted 
apparition,  made,  as  I  had  anticipated,  straight  for  the 
rocks.  The  race  was  a  most  exciting  one.  There  was 
one  fair  head  in  the  lot ;  so,  singling  him  out,  I  was 
close  behind  him  when  still  about  forty  yards  from  the 
precipitously  rising  slope,  where  if  he  once  got  he  would 
have  been  secure  from  further  molestation.  He  did  reach 
it,  but  with  three  '45 -calibre  bullets  out  of  my  six  shots 
in  him,  and  these,  though  they  did  not  bring  him  down 
on  the  spot,  made  him  bite  the  dust  before  he  had  as- 
cended  100  yards.      Boiling  down  the   steep  slope,  the 

♦  I  do  not  nsually  carry  a  revolver,  it  bein^  a  most  useless  and 
cumbersome  utensil  for  game ;  but,  in  this  instance,  I  happened  to 
have  one  about  me,  as  it  was  a  short  time  after  the  last  Ute  outbreak 
(1879) ;  and  though  the  site  of  the  war  was  a  considerable  distance  off, 
tmall  bands  of  the  Utes  had  been  horse-lifting  in  the  neighbourhood. 


1 66  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

fine  ram  was  lying  dead  at  my  feet,  all  within  ten 
minutes  of  my  first  sighting  him.  I  was  not  a  little 
pleased  with  my  success,  and,  next  to  those  of  my  first 
OfMy  the  horns,  though  not  over-heavy,  are  the  most 
prized  in  my  little  collection. 

The  coat  of  the  Bighorn  is  a  dusky  grey,  varying  in 
shade  in  different  individuals  ;  the  hair  is  coarse,  crisp,  and 
short,  bearing  a  very  great  resemblance  to  that  of  the 
European  ibex,  not  only  in  texture  and  colour,  but  also  in 
the  fine  woolly  undergrowth  which  in  winter  protects  the 
animal  against  the  great  cold.  At  first  the  tyro  finds  it 
very  difficult  to  see  Bighorn,  as  the  colour  of  their  coat  is 
in  strange  uniformity  with  the  tint  of  the  rock.  Absurd 
as  it  sounds,  I  once  shot,  and  frequently  saw,  reddish  Big- 
horns, the  dust  of  their  native  rock  -blood- red  as  some 
of  the  so  fantastically  varied  formations  of  the  Rockies 
are — having  given  the  coat  a  tint  similar  to  its  own. 

Bighorn  are  very  cunning  animals ;  they  will  let  the 
sportsman  pass  them  a  few  paces  off  and  not  budge,  and, 
when  he  has  turned  his  back,  rise  and  make  off.  Of  this  I 
very  frequently  convinced  myself,  till  finally  I  got  into  the 
habit  of  filling  my  right  pocket  with  pebbles,  and  throwing 
one  or  two  wherever  they  could  possibly  be  hidden  under 
overhanging  rocks  or  other  shelter;  my  trouble  being 
rewarded  on  several  occasions  by  thus  starting  small  bands 
of  eight  or  ten  heads,  giving  me  capital  opportunity  to 
select  the  best.  Their  tenacity  of  life  is  very  great.  On 
two  occasions  I  shot  old  rams  too  far  back,  my  Express 
tearing  big  holes,  visible  at  a  considerable  distance  off; 
snow  was  on  the  ground,  and  had  it  been  any  other 
animal  we  must  have  got  them,  for  our  camp-dog,  though 
not   regularly   trained   to   it,  followed   up    fresh   tracks 


Camps  on  the  Trail  of  the  Bighorn,       167 

remarkably  well.  On  both  occasions  we  spent  a  whole 
day  vainly  trying  to  get  our  victim,  who  carried  good  horns. 
Leading  us  circuits  up  and  down  endless  and  very  steep 
slopes,  they  got  away  on  both  occasions  by  returning  like 
the  hare  to  the  spot  where  they  were  put  up,  and  from 
thence  keeping  to  their  old  spoor,  tliey  finally  left  it  where 
the  ground  was  most  broken  and  no  snow,  by  one  huge 
leap,  down  steep  rocks,  where  their  spoor  was  soon  lost. 

My  largest  head,  measuring  when  killed,  as  I  have  men- 
tioned, nineteen  inches,  rewarded  a  long,  but  perhaps 
the  most  interesting,  stalk  of  my  second  expedition. 
The  range  the  ram  inhabited  had  been  hunted  previously 
by  English  sportsmen,  and  it  was  owing  to  this  circum- 
stance that  I  heard  of  the  existence  of  this  uncommonly 
large  one,  who  had  hitherto  outdodged  his  pursuers.  The 
mountains  were  a  mass  of  bad-land  crags,  of  the  most 
fantastic  shape,  with  very  little  timber  about  them ;  the 
time,  the  latter  part  of  November,  and  about  six  inches  of 
snow  covering  the  less  precipitous  slopes.  M}^  trapper,  en- 
gaged with  cayotes,  had  pitched  camp  in  a  sheltered  grove 
of  cotton-woods  that  skirted  the  banks  of  a  little  stream. 
An  old  "  dug-out,"  inhabited  by  him  some  years  before, 
offered,  when  cleared  of  rubbish  and  the  fireplace  newly  set, 
a  capital  retreat ;  in  fact,  it  was  the  snuggest  camp  I 
remember  on  that  trip.  Game,  especially  the  graceful 
Mule-deer,  was  plentiful  about  us,  but  it  did  not  take  me 
long  to  perceive  that  they  had  benefited  by  their  previous 
intercourse  with  white  men,  for  they  were  shy,  and  evinced 
little  of  that  innocent  curiosity  which  unhunted  game  in 
those  regions  not  unfrequently  betray. 

A  buffalo-robe  behind  my  saddle,  my  riicksack  and 
eaddle-bags  filled  with  spare  ammunition,  bread,  and   a 


1 68  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

frying-pan,  and  Boreas,  the  slow  but  sure-footed  one,  with 
the  writer  on  his  back,  left  camp  for  a  two-days'  stalk. 
I  was  determined  to  do  my  level  best  with  the  big 
ram,  of  whose  existence  I  had  received  authentic  informa- 
tion ;  but  the  chief  difficulty,  of  course,  was  to  find  my  game 
in  the  gulches,  canyons,  and  gloomy  "pockets'*  of  an 
extensive  ridge.  Fortunately,  it  was  rutting- time,  and 
the  rams  were  now  with  the  smaller  fry,  moving  at  this 
period  over  more  ground  than  is  their  wont  at  other 
times.  I  discovered,  in  the  course  of  the  first  forenoon, 
three  or  four  different  bands ;  but  my  glass,  and  a  stalk 
more  or  less  protracted,  bringing  me  in  close  proximity  to 
them,  showed  me  that  my  would-be  prize  was  not  among 
them.  In  the  afternoon  I  was  sitting  on  a  promiuent 
buttress  of  rock,  examining  the  surrounding  ground,  all 
of  the  most  broken  and  weirdly-shaped  nature,  when  I 
discovered,  some  eight  or  nine  hundred  yards  from  me, 
a  band.  With  my  glass  I  saw  they  were  on  the  move, 
grazing  slowly  along  towards  my  resting-place.  The  wind 
being  in  my  teeth,  and  the  ground  very  unfavourable 
for  an  advance,  I  resolved  to  wait  at  the  base  of  the 
crag  for  the  approach  of  the  Bighorn.  Ventre  a  terre, 
I  lay  for  more  than  an  hour  behind  a  stunted  sagebrush 
about  fifteen  or  eighteen  inches  high  ;  but  no  Bighorn 
appeared  on  my  limited  horizon.  I  was  just  about  to  rise, 
and  had  already  let  down  the  hammers  of  my  Express, 
when,  looking  up,  I  saw,  about  twenty-five  yards  off,  a 
monster  head,  staring  in  the  most  deliberate  manner  at  the 
bush  behind  which  I  was  now  fairly  a-tremble  with  buck 
fever ;  for  one  glance  at  the  huge  horns,  curving  in  graceful 
one-and-a-quarter  turn,  was  sufficient  to  tell  me  I  had  the 
patriarch  before  me. 


Camps  on  the  Trail  of  the  Bighorn.       169 

The  ram  could  not  see  me,  but  something  or  other  must 
have  roused  his  suspicion,  for  there  he  stood,  his  head  just 
showing  over  the  rocks,  calmly  staring  towards  me.  The 
dense  brush,  through  which  I  had  made  a  peep-hole, 
seemed  to  grow  scantier  and  smaller  as  minute  after 
minute  passed  and  the  same  rigid  gaze  was  fixed  upon  me. 
My  rifle,  lying  muzzle  downwards,  was  at  my  side,  per- 
fectly useless,  however,  under  the  ram's  suspicious 
scrutiny.  How  long  this  continued,  I  know  not ;  to  me  it 
seemed  hours.  A  second  and  a  third  head — one  of  a  doe, 
the  other  of  a  smaller  ram — had  showed  up  ;  but  evidently 
their  senses  were  less  keen  than  that  of  their  leader,  for 
they  both  withdrew,  and  a  few  minutes  later  I  saw  the 
herd,  some  forty  in  number,  slowly  file  up  a  narrow  ledge 
leading  to  yet  higher  ground.  The  sun  was  going  down 
when  the  big  ram  began  his  tantalizing  game,  and  now 
dusk  was  fast  approaching,  and  I  was  thinking  seriously 
of  jumping  up  and  taking  my  chance  at  a  running  shot, 
when  the  apparition  vanished  as  suddenly  and  noiselessly 
as  it  had  appeared.  This  faculty  of  stealing  away,  over 
ground  where  it  would  seem  impossible  to  move  one  step 
without  starting  stones  and  making  a  noise,  I  had  pre- 
viously observed,  but  never  in  such  a  high  degree.  At 
such  moments  the  heavy  animal  seems  to  step  with  the 
velvety  paws  of  a  panther,  and  not  a  pebble  rattles  or  a 
stone  is  displaced. 

The  utter  silence  that  reigned  over  the  whole  dreary, 
weirdly-grand  landscape  became,  now  that  the  nervous 
strain  had  ceased,  more  oppressive.  What  to  do  next  was 
the  question.  The  prize  was  too  great  to  tempt  any 
rashness.  Out  of  three  possibilities  I  knew  not  which 
had  occurred.     The  ram,  still  on  the  watch,  could  either 


1 70  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

be  behind  the  rocks  that  had  hidden  his  approach,  or  he 
could  have  followed  the  band,  or,  finally,  he  might  have 
gone  quite  another  course  down  the  steep  slope,  where  he 
would  be  lost  to  me  in  the  dense  timber  of  a  deep  gulch. 
Already  it  was  too  dark  to  shoot  over  a  hundred  yards 
with  any  certainty,  and  the  rapid  fall  of  night  usual  in 
those  latitudes  would  make  all  shooting  impossible  before 
ten  minutes  had  elapsed.  From  the  very  first  I  had  given 
up  all  hope  of  returning  to  where  I  had  left  Boreas  and 
my  bufialo  robe;  so,  as  lying  out  was  inevitable,  I  decided 
not  to  move  that  evening,  but  to  stop  where  I  was. 
Cautiously  creeping  down  from  my  post  of  vantage,  I 
found  between  two  big  rocks  a  sort  of  cavity,  where, 
sheltered  from  the  wind,  I  resolved  to  pass  the  night.  A 
warm  jersey,  a  pair  of  warm  gloves,  a  small  flask  of  whiskey, 
and  a  juicy  elk  tongue,  with  some  bread — the  two  latter 
my  *'  iron  store  " — all  carried  in  my  rucksack,  enabled  me 
to  pass  the  long  hours  of  that  night  without  enduring  any 
very  exceptional  hardships;  and  I  had  ample  time  to 
compare  the  Old  World  past  with  the  New  World  present, 
to  review  the  pleasures  of  two  November  nights  spent 
both  at  an  altitude  of  at  least  10,000  feet,  the  one  on  a 
bleak  range  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the  other  in  a 
cavern  in  the  Tyrolese  Alps,  in  which,  some  years  before, 
a  chamois-stalking  fix  had  imprisoned  me. 

I  was  right  glad  when  break  of  day  finally  enabled  me 
to  stretch  my  cramped  limbs.  Substituting  moccasins  for 
my  heavy  hobnailed  shoes,  I  was  before  long  on  the  creep 
again.  My  first  move  was  to  ascertain  if  the  ram  was  still 
in  close  proximity,  and,  having  a  lively  remembrance  of 
that  long  stern  gaze,  I  preferred  to  ascend  the  crag  from 
whence  I  had  first  observed  the  Bighorns,  rather  than 


Camps  on  the  Trail  of  the  Bighorn,       171 

trust  myself  to  the  more  convenient,  but  also  more  ex- 
posed, hiding-place  behind  the  sagebrush.  A  close 
examination  of  the  ground  proved  resultless ;  the  ram  was 
gone.  Descending  again,  I  made  for  the  spot  Tvhere  he 
had  appeared  to  me  the  previous  evening.  The  snow  lay 
in  patches,  and  after  a  little  trouble  I  managed  to  strike 
his  tracks,  which  at  once  showed  me  that  he  had  made  for 
the  higher  ground.  A  toilsome  ascent  over  the  amazingly 
rough  ground,  covered  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  with 
huge  blocks  of  rock,  most  of  them  bigger  than  a  log 
shanty,  thrown  pell-mell  together,  parted  by  great 
cavernous  chasms,  fifteen  to  twenty  feet  deep,  and  too  broad 
for  me  to  leap  them,  obliged  me  to  make  great  detours — 
while  the  nimbler  game  had  traversed  them  with  ease — and 
brought  me  finally  to  the  ledge  where  I  had  last  seen  the 
band.  Here  the  snow  was  in  better  condition  for  tracking, 
and  I  soon  detected  among  numerous  others  the  tracks  of 
my  ram,  unmistakable  on  account  of  their  size.  The 
spoor  was  "  clean,"  showing,  by  the  absence  of  little  drifted 
crumbs  of  snow  and  ice,  that  it  was  but  very  recently 
made.  The  wind  was  rapidly  rising,  and  the  cold  had 
numbed  my  fingers,  notwithstanding  my  warm  sheepskin 
gloves,  for  the  weather  was  evidently  changing  for  the 
worse,  and  a  "  cold  spell  "  threatening.  A  long  and 
very  cold  creep  along  the  ledge  brought  me  in  about 
half  an  hour  to  a  gap  of  some  five  or  six  feet  in  breadth. 
The  Bighorn  had  leaped  it  with  ease,  but  to  human  skill 
it  proved  an  insurmountable  obstacle;  for  not  only  was 
the  ledge  in  this  place  hardly  broader  than  two  feet, 
but  the  precipice  at  my  side  was  some  hundred  feet  in 
depth,  and  the  wind  too  high  to  make  one's  footing  very 
sure.     Crouching  back  on  my  heels,  I  managed  to  turn, 


1 72  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

and  retraced  my  hand-and-knee  steps  to  the  old  starting- 
point,  without  having  seen  a  living  sign  of  my  game. 

Knowing  that  Bighorn  at  this  season  feed  very  long  in 
the  morning,  I  determined  to  try  a  low  level,  where  the 
grass,  so  scanty  that  one  hardly  saw  it,  seemed  a  little 
more  plentiful.  Again  a  ledge  was  the  only  means  of 
weathering  the  huge  buttress  of  rock  which  shut  out  the 
view.  This  time  it  was  broader,  and  ran  right  round  the 
whole  face  of  the  precipice.  In  an  hour  I  had  gained  the 
extremity,  and,  peering  over  the  ledge,  discovered  the 
band  directly  below  me,  grazing  at  the  foot  of  the  precipice 
among  a  belt  of  low  and  stunted  cedars.  Lying  on  a 
rock,  slightly  ahead  of  the  rest,  was  my  ram,  his  head 
turned  away  from  me,  looking  downwards.  The  distance 
was  comparatively  short,  but  the  very  high  wind,  blowing 
right  across  the  course  of  the  bullet,  made  the  shot  never- 
theless a  riskful  one.  Crouching  back,  I  took  my  time, 
examining  the  lay  of  the  ground,  which  proved  to  me 
that,  without  making  a  detour  of  several  hours,  during 
which  the  band  would  most  probably  move  away,  I  could 
not  possibly  get  closer.  Cautiously  pushing  my  rifle 
forward,  I  prepared  to  chance  the  shot.  To  my  left 
barrel,  shooting  a  solid  ball — in  high  wind  much  pre- 
ferable to  the  lighter  Express  bullet — devolved  the  honour 
of  bagging  this  royal  head,  which  it  did  most  effectually, 
by  breaking  his  backbone  and  piercing  his  body  from  the 
centre  of  the  back  to  the  foreshoulder.  Instead  of  huddling 
together  and  gazing  terror-stricken  in  the  direction  of  the 
shot — as  Bighorns  which  have  not  been  hunted  most 
usually  do — the  whole  band  dispersed  very  rapidly;  so 
quick  were  their  movements,  in  fact,  that  I  had  hardly 
time  to  get  in  my  second  shot  at  a  yearling  whom  I  wanted 


Camps  on  the  Trail  of  the  Bighorn,       1 73 

for  immediate  consumption,  no  warm  food  having  passed  my 
lips  since  I  left  camp.  I  missed  him,  however,  the  bullet 
tearing  off  a  fragment  of  stone,  which  must  have  struck 
him,  for  he  made  a  most  comical  goatlike  side-jump. 

Impatient  as  I  was  to  get  down  to  my  prize,  I  could  not 
do  so  without  making  a  considerable  round,  so  I  found  it 
expedient  to  go  back  where  trustworthy  Boreas  had  been 
hobbled,  in  close  proximity  to  a  water-hole  and  good 
grazing.  After  three  hours  of  hard  work,  I  had  brought 
him  round  to  the  base  of  the  chain,  and,  leaving  him 
there,  ascended  again  to  where  the  Bighorn  lay.  He  was 
a  glorious  old  fellow,  and  with  my  tape  I  measured  and 
re-measured  the  horns  for  at  least  ten  minutes.  Few  such 
heads  are  to  be  got,  and  the  accident  which  subsequently 
deprived  me  of  it  destroyed  a  grand  trophy  of  which  I 
was  exceedingly  proud.  After  cooking  and  devouring 
the  liver,  I  prepared  to  return  home.  Descending,  the 
Rucksack  came  into  requisition,  for  the  head  of  a  Big- 
horn is  not  only  very  heavy,  but  most  awkward  to  carry, 
especially  if  any  climbing,  requiring  the  use  of  the  hands, 
too,  has  to  be  done.  Two  extra  straps  round  chest  and 
waist,  holding  the  head  in  the  position  most  convenient 
and  least  dangerous  for  the  bearer  in  case  of  falls,  are 
essential  helps  on  such  occasions.  It  was  growing  dark 
when  finally  I  was  on  my  way  home,  Boreas  picking  his 
steps  with  wonderful  surefootedness  along  the  tortuous 
rock-strewn  bottoms  of  deep  gloomy  canyons,  through 
which  our  road  lay.  Long  had  the  bright  stars  been  shining, 
and  the  "  dipper  *'  was  beginning  to  slant,  when  finally 
a  welcoming  neigh  of  Boreas^s  favourite  mate  sounded 
through  the  frost-laden  mist  of  night,  and  a  few  minutes 
later  the  fire,  lighting  up  in   picturesque  brightness  the 


1 74  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

interior  of  our  primitive  "  dug  oat "  home,  no  less  tlian 
the  genial  voices  of  my  companions,  and  the  affectionate 
greeting  of  our  faithful  dog,  ended  one  of  my  most  inte- 
resting stalks  after  Bighorn. 

Speaking  of  measuring  horns  reminds  me  of  a  ludicroua 
misadventure  defrauding  me  of  a  very  fair  head.  I 
had  sighted  a  lonely  old  ram  roaming  on  some  ugly 
mauvaise  terres  ground,  rendering  a  stalk  very  ticklish 
work.  A  little  perseverance,  however,  overcame  the 
obstacle,  and  late  in  the  afternoon  I  got  my  shot.  The 
ram  fell  as  if  struck  by  lightning,  a  fortunate  circum- 
Btance,  as  he  was  standing  on  a  very  narrow  ledge, 
overhanging  a  lofty  precipice.  The  slightest  struggle 
would  have  sent  him  headlong  down  the  abyss,  a  fall 
which  would  have  smashed  his  horns  to  splinters. 

When,  by  crawling  along  the  narrow  ledge,  the  only 
possible  approach,  I  got  to  my  quarry,  he  seemed  as  dead 
as  a  stone.  Where  he  lay  his  body  occupied  the  whole 
width  of  the  ledge,  his  legs  stretching  over  the  narrow 
cornice  of  rock,  while  his  hind-quarters  lay  towards  me. 
Elated  with  my  success,  I  was  hotly  eager  to  know  the 
size  of  the  head  ;  so,  whipping  out  my  tape-measure,  and 
not  noticing  anything  else,  I  stretched  over  the  body,  and 
using  both  hands,  had  succeeded  in  encircling  one  of  the 
massive  horns  with  the  ribbon,  when  I  suddenly  felt 
myself  heaved  up ;  and,  before  I  had  time  to  regain  a 
kneeling  position,  the  ram  was  on  his  legs,  flinging  me 
back  like  a  feather.  Luckily,  he  threw  me  so  that  I  kept 
my  equilibrium,  a  very  slight  sideways  jerk  would  have 
sent  me  to  kingdom  come.  My  rifle  I  had  left  behind,  at 
the  place  I  had  shot  from ;  and  my  knife  I,  of  course, 
could  not  use,  owing  to  the  rapidity  of  the  whole  thing 


Camps  on  the  Trail  of  the  Bighorn.       175 

and  tlie  precarious  nature  of  the  ground.  The  ram  stood 
for  half  a  minute,  as  if  paralyzed,  and  then,  with  a  rapid 
and  very  peculiar  motion  of  his  body,  which  I  had  nevel 
noticed  before,  made  off  along  the  ledge,  my  measuring- 
tape  fluttering  in  a  loose  coil  round  his  right  horn. 
It  would  seem  I  had,  in  trapper  parlance,  "  creased  *'  the 
ram,  and  hence  his  instantaneous  fall,  and  equally  rapid 
"  up  and  away  **  movement. 

What  at  first  annoyed  me  most  was  the  loss  of  the 
tape,  as  it  was  the  only  one  in  our  "  outfit,"  and  I  had 
frequent  use  for  it.  How  to  replace  it  was  a  puzzle,  for 
in  making  another  I  had  no  standard  inch  or  foot-rule  to 
go  by.  At  last  a  "  happy  thought  "  struck  me.  My  rifle 
barrels  were,  as  I  knew,  exactly  twenty-eight  inches  long, 
80  nothing  was  easier  than  to  turn  them  into  standard 
inches  of  the  realm,  and,  with  this  aid,  manufacture  out 
of  the  binding  of  my  coat  a  new  tape,  which,  on  return- 
ing to  civilized  lands,  months  afterwards,  I  found  to  be 
quite  correct. 

The  mauvaises  terres  formation  is  often  very  favourable 
(or  rather  unfavourable)  for  a  wholesale  slaughter  of  these 
animals,  especially  if  two  or  three  tried  hunters  circumvent 
them  from  different  sides,  rendering  impossible  all  escape 
from  the  narrow  belt  of  rock,  or  small  basin  shut  in  by 
perpendicular  walls.  As  their  hides  make  the  best  buck- 
skin, a  party  of  Indians  or  half-breeds,  will  slay — ii 
favoured  by  luck — a  whole  band ;  and  even  white  hunters 
will  occasioually  be  carried  away  to  this  extent.  As, 
however,  no  game  I  am  acquainted  with  so  readily  takes 
to  heart  the  lessons  taught  it  by  its  human  pursuers, 
opportunities  to  butcher  are  rare,  and  only  possible  in 
Very   out-of-the-way  nooks,   where  Indians  have   never 


1 76  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

hunted.  On  the  contrary,  however,  it  has  often  astonished 
me,  how  close  to  frontier  settlements  Bighorn  will  roam 
in  winter,  if  they  are  not  hunted  or  disturbed.  I  know, 
for  instance,  one  place  in  Wyoming— an  isolated  chain 
of  bad-land  peaks,  not  more  than  7000  feet  over  sea- 
level,  and  only  twelve  miles  from  a  settlement  of  im- 
portance, where,  in  December  and  January,  Bighorn  (no 
large  heads)  can  be  killed  with  certainty. 

An  acquaintance,  whom  I  happened  to  meet  on  the 
Union  Pacific  Express,  on  his  return  journey  round  the 
World,  and  to  whom  I  disclosed  the  secret,  sacrificed  only 
three  days,  and,  braving  the  Arctic  cold,  bagged  his 
Bighorn  in  that  time.  But  this  is  an  exceptional  case ; 
for  usually  it  takes  weeks,  if  not  months,  of  travel  to 
get  to  the  autumn  quarters  of  Bighorn,  many  shooting- 
parties  I  have  heard  of  spending  months  in  the  moun- 
tains without  even  seeing  the  tracks  of  one.  In  summer. 
Bighorn  are  very  hard  to  find,  at  least  in  those  portions  of 
the  West  I  know ;  indeed  from  observations  made  during 
my  last  trip  they  seem  to  migrate  during  the  hot  months 
of  the  year  to  the  highest  and  most  inaccessible  peaks. 
To  judge  from  my  experience,  they  descend  to  the  bad- 
lands, their  favourite  autumn,  winter,  and  spring  ground, 
in  September  or  October,  after  the  first  heavy  snow- 
storm. 

In  the  Wind  River  chain  there  existed  up  to  quite  recent 
times,  a  very  interesting  and  very  little-known  community 
of  Indians,  known  as  the  **  Sheepeaters."  *    They  lived  very 

■  One  hears,  frequently,  very  wonderful  tales  about  these  Sheep- 
eaters  ;  one  "  authority  "  aflBrming  that  they  hybernated  like  bear, 
their  "  winter  sleep  "  lasting  through  the  winter.  So  far  as  I  can 
\eam,  they  lived  only  in  the  Wind  River  and  Gros  Ventre  country. 


Lamps  on  the  Trail  of  the  Bighorn,        1 77 

Ligh  up  on  the  great  mountain  Backbone,  and  their 
miserable  dwellings,  across  which  I  frequently  stumbled, 
prove  that  they  constantly  lived  on  or  above  Timberline, 
thus  making  the  only  known  exception  to  the  rule  that  the 
Indians  of  North  America  are  anything  but  mountaineers. 
They  had  no  horses,  and  were  the  poorest  of  the  poor. 
They  subsisted,  so  I  was  informed  by  a  half-breed,  whose 
squaw  was  a  daughter  of  this  tribe,  on  deer  and  Bighorn, 
following  the  game  in  late  autumn  to  the  lower  pasturages, 
They  were  very  expert  stalkers.  They  belonged  to  the 
great  Snake  Indian  tribe,  but  had  their  own  chief,  and 
had  nothing  in  common  with  their  Plains  brethren, 
who,  born  in  the  saddle,  deem  it  most  derogatory  to 
walk  a  single  unnecessary  step.  Sheepeaters'  "  teeppees/' 
or  lodges,  are  without  exception  the  most  miserable 
human  dwellings  I  ever  saw ;  and,  considering  their 
very  great  altitude,  consisting  of  loosely  piled-up  stones, 
and  lean-to  roof  of  slender  pine  trunks,  their  inmates, 
wretchedly  clad  as  they  undoubtedly  were,  must  have 
sujffered  intense  cold.  In  this  chain  they  are  occasionally 
found  800  or  1000  feet  over  Timberline.  In  some  in- 
stances they  must  have  carried  the  logs  forming  the  roof 
up  amazingly  steep  slopes.  One  hut  I  found  on  a  name- 
less peak,  also  far  above  Timberline."  The  majority  were, 
however,  just  on  the  outskirts  of  timber  vegetation,  and 
here  I  have  counted  as  many  as  fourteen  very  big  skulls 

•  Mr.  Langford,  one  of  Professor  Hayden's  Government  exploration 
party,  who  ascended  the  Great  Teton,  found  on  the  very  summit  of  an 
adjacent  peak,  at  a  height  considerably  over  13,000  feet,  a  circular 
enclosure  six  feet  in  diamel  er,  composed  of  granite  slabs,  set  up  end- 
wise, and  about  five  feet  in  height,  very  similar  to  one  I  discovered  at 
an  altitude  2000  feet  lower. 

V 


178  Camps  m  ilie  Rockies. 

of  Bighorn,  lying  about  in  a  space  not  larger  than  a 
medium -sized  room.  To  judge  from  this  evidence,  these 
Indians  hunted  only  the  very  largest  of  the  species.  There 
are  no  Sheepeaters  left.  One  of  the  last  authentic  records 
of  them  is  furnished,  I  believe,  in  Captain  Jones's  report, 
to  which  we  have  already  referred,  a  Sheepeater  acting 
as  guide  extricated  him  and  his  companions  from  the 
great  forests,  where  he  had  got  lost.  A  few  of  the  last 
huch%  of  the  tribe  returned,  so  I  was  told,  to  their  original 
tribe,  and  became  "  reservation  *'  Indians,  but  I  learn  that 
they  have  all  died.  Let  us  hope  that  their  famous  quarry 
will  long  survive  them. 

One  of  the  most  singular  experiences  in  my  whole 
acquaintance  with  this  noble  game  was  the  conclusive 
discovery  that  they  are  subject  to  scab.  I  had  heard 
of  it  before,  but  my  trapper,  as  well  as  several  equally 
experienced  mountaineers,  never  having  come  across  this 
disease  in  Bighorn,  ridiculed  the  idea.  As  it  turned 
out,  I  was  destined  to  become  convinced  of  its  truth  in  a 
most  unpleasant  manner.  I  had  determined  to  send  the 
whole  carcass  of  a  good  specimen  to  Europe,  and,  in  face, 
had,  before  starting  out,  made  the  necessary  arrangements 
with  the  Express  Company  of  the  Union  Pacific,  and  with 
the  agents  of  a  large  Transatlantic  line  of  steamers,  who 
were  to  berth  the  rare  guest  in  the  ice-hole  on  board  ship ; 
and  hence  I  had  every  hope  of  its  reaching  the  Old  World 
in  a  good  condition.  Our  means  of  transportation  being 
limited  and  already  overtaxed  by  my  collection  of  horns, 
I  resolved  on  my  return  to  civilization  to  wait  till  the  last 
opportunity  where  Bighorn  could  be  got.  This  was  a  day 
or  two's  ride  from  an  Union  Pacific  station — a  small 
Western  townlet,  where  I  intended  to  take  the  cars  back 


Camps  on  the  Trail  of  the  Bighorn^       1 79 

to  New  York.  December  was  far  advanced,  and  the 
weather  just  then  very  severe,  the  thermometer  being  down 
to  26*^  and  30°  below  zero,  and  a  gale  blowing  the  whole 
time,  making  our  camp,  which  was  in  the  ruin  of  a  log 
cabin,  roof  and  one  side  missing,  a  very  cold  and  uncom- 
fortable one.  Bighorn  there  were  plenty,  as  the  nume- 
rous tracks  in  the  snow  showed,  so  I  hoped  to  be 
able  to  kill  my  ram  in  the  course  of  the  next  day  or 
two.  But  chance,  which  had  dealt  so  kindly  with  me  the 
previous  four  or  five  months— it  was  on  my  second  trip — 
now  forsook  me.  On  the  second  day  of  our  stay,  a  very 
bad  three-day  snowstorm — to  which  a  mail-rider,  who  had 
stopped  with  us  the  first  night,  fell  victim,  having  been 
surprised  by  it  on  a  bleak,  entirely  shelterless,  alkaline 
desert — began,  and  only  on  the  fourth  day  was  it  possible 
for  me  to  stir  out.  The  wind  blew  a  blizzard,  i.e.  a 
hurricane,  before  which  even  log  shanties  were  not  safe, 
and  continued  so  for  the  next  eight  days,  long  after  it 
had  stopped  snowing. 

Stalking  under  such  circumstances  on  the  bleak  mountain 
sides  was  decidedly  cold  work ;  but  my  heart  was  set  on  it, 
and  I  was  determined  to  succeed.  Had  the  hardships  not 
been  so  great,  the  comical  sides  of  my  daily  hunts  would  have 
counterbalanced  much  that  was  disagreeable,  for  ludicrous 
it  certainly  must  have  appeared  to  a  looker-on  to  see  me 
muffled  up  in  a  shaggy  buffalo  coat,  wolfskins  wrapped 
round  my  knees,  creeping  for  hours  at  a  time  along  the 
ledges  and  craggy  heights  of  the  peaks,  the  wind  in  exposed 
parts  being  so  high  that  upright  walking  was  not  only 
quite  impossible,  but  most  dangerous ;  finally,  to  get  up 
to  a  band  of  my  game  as  close  often  as  thirty  yards,  for 
evidently  they  felt  convinced  that  none   but  a   maniac 

V  2 


1 80  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

would  molest  them  under  prevailing  circumstances,  and 
then  miss  them,  as  happened  to  me  once,  twice — nay,  six 
or  seven  times  successively.  My  favourite  Express,  out 
of  condition  by  some  hard  knocks  received  in  tumbles  with 
my  horse,  shot,  I  was  well  aware,  no  longer  true  ;  but  the 
chief  cause  of  my  non-success  was,  I  fancy,  the  high  wind. 
At  last,  on  the  tenth  day,  I  spotted  a  larger  band,  six 
or  seven  hundred  yards  off,  snugly  ensconced  on  a  pro- 
jecting ledge,  where  they  were  sheltered  as  much  as  possible 
from  the  wind.  It  was  terribly  cold,  and  the  effort  of 
keeping  my  eyes  open  made  the  tears  course  down  my 
cheeks,  to  turn  into  ice  on  their  way ;  and  what  with  the 
dreadful  wind  and  my  trembling  hands,  I  was  an  un- 
conscionable time  about  getting  a  better  view  of  the  band 
with  my  glass.  When  at  last,  resting  both  elbows  on  a 
ledge,  and  lying  flat  on  the  snow,  I  was  successful,  I  was 
pleased  by  the  discovery  of  a  fine  six  or  seven-year-old 
ram  among  the  band.  The  opportunity  was  a  good  one, 
and  this  time  I  was  successful — at  least  so  far  as  to  bring 
down  my  quarry,  whom  I  managed  to  approach  unob- 
served to  within  twenty  yards.  In  high  glee  I  crept  up 
to  the  Bighorn,  still  struggling  in  the  last  agonies  of 
death.  I  had  already  been  somewhat  mystified  by  ob- 
serving a  patch  of  something  detach  itself  as  my  bullet 
struck  him ;  but  what  was  my  astonishment  to  find  on 
getting  up  to  him,  that  the  whole  coat  was  one  mass  of 
scab  of  the  worst  kind,  the  skin  actually  hanging  in 
patches  round  the  shoulders.  The  poor  animal  was  a  mere 
skeleton,  and  no  doubt  would  not  have  survived  many 
weeks.  I  stuck  my  knife  into  him,  and  found  what  flesh 
there  was  of  a  dark  blue  tinge,  and  of  course  entirely 
useless.     I  was  so  disgusted  with  my  bad  luck  that  I  did 


Camps  on  the  Trail  of  the  Bighorn,      1 8 1 

not  even  secure  the  fine  horns,  but  returned  to  our  camp 
earlier  than  usual  in  no  pleasant  mood. 

Next  day,  Port — who,  accustomed  as  he  was  to  "  dog- 
garned  freaks  *'  on  my  part,  had  nevertheless,  I  am 
afraid,  given  up  all  hope  of  seeing  my  scattered  senses 
return — and  I  made  a  pack  camp,  i.e,  only  taking  one 
horse,  with  blankets  and  some  food,  leaving  the  bulk  in 
charge  of  the  boy,  to  the  next  range,  fifteen  miles  off ; 
and  there  on  the  first  day  we  killed  a  very  fair  specimen, 
untouched  by  the  fatal  disease,  to  which  most  of  the 
Bighorn  on  the  other  chain  will  probably  have  fallen 
victims  by  this  time.  It  is  an  undisputed  fact,  that  to 
the  Indians  this  disease  among  their  game  was  previous 
to  the  invasion  of  white  men  entirely  unknown. 


1 82  Camps  in  the  Rockieu 


CHAPTER  VIL 


CAMPS  ON   TIMBERLINB. 


On  the  summit  of  the  Great  Divide — A  snow  hurricane — Our  fix- 
That  pot  of  beans — Its  effect — Finding  the  horses — Grand  viewa 
—Fine  weather — Walking  on  gold — How  not  to  make  soap- 
In  dense  timber-^-Difficulties  of  getting  through. 

Our  first  acquaintance  with  the  very  summit  of  the  great 
Continental  backbone  was  a  most  agreeable  one.  We 
reached  it  on  August  27th.  The  weather  was  superb — 
fine  warm  sunny  days ;  cold  nights,  when,  after  an  honest 
day's  exercise,  it  was  the  essence  of  luxury  to  get  under 
our  snug  buffalo  robes  spread  over  a  thick  layer  of 
springy  pine  boughs  for  a  glorious  night's  rest.  The 
atmosphere  laden  with  sparkling  oxygen,  no  less  than  the 
pleasure  of  having  successfully  surmounted  manifold  little 
hardships,  and  upon  which  we  now  looked  back  with  the 
satisfaction  of  a  schoolboy  recalling  the  experience  of 
those  bad  five  minutes  in  the  headmaster's  study,  put  a 
very  contented  air  upon  our  worldly  affairs. 

It  was  glorious  to  roam  about  on  this  great  broad 
ridge-pole  of  North  America — now  catching  glimpses  of 
the  Southern  slopes,  then  again  of  the  great  barren 
peaks  of  the  Sierra  Soshone  to  the  North  of  us,  which  we 


Camps  on  Timber  line.  183 

had  quite  recently  left,  glad  to  exchange  the  bizarre  vol- 
canic wilderness  of  that  region  for  the  beautifully-tim- 
bered slopes  of  the  main  watershed  on  the  Big  Wind  River 
Mountains.  The  first  two  days  we  camped  at  the  lowest 
point  on  the  range,  where  an  old  Indian  trail  crosses  it  * 
at  an  altitude  of  9800  feet.  But  we  were  all  too  restless 
to  stop  long  where  everything  was  of  the  pleasantest. 
The  long  chain  had  to  be  explored,  to  the  left  and  to  the 
right  of  us.  So,  two  days  later,  camp  was  struck,  and,  as 
trapper  parlance  has  it,  we  "  pulled  out "  for  yet  higher 
regions. 

We  passed  Timberline,  and  got  on  a  bleak  ridge,  by 
which  we  hoped  to  reach  another  portion  of  the  moun- 
tains, where,  on  the  preceding  day,  from  a  high  peak  I 
had  espied  a  beautiful  "  bunch"  of  little  lakelets  nestling 
under  the  beetling  cliffs  of  one  of  the  highest  mountains 
of  the  chain.  While  following  this  barren  ridge,  when 
we  were  at  an  altitude  of  at  least  11,000  feet,  and  from 
whence  the  whole  vast  extent  of  mountain  country  on 
both  sides  could  be  viewed  as  from  the  roof  of  the  highest 
house  in  a  town,  we  made  the  first  acquaintance  of  a  "  real 
up-and-down  Main  Divide  snow  hurricane  ;'*  and  though 
it  was  only  (as  our  almanack — my  diary,  where  careful 
track  of  days  was  kept — informed  me)  the  29th  August, 
we  had  ears,  noses,  and  fingers  frostbitten,  and  ran  a 
pretty  *'  square  **  chance,  as  Port  acknowledged,  of  getting 
"  rubbed  out  like  so  many  darned  cayotes."  It  was  an 
unpleasant  experience,  and  as  it  will  show  the  great 
extremes  and  amazing  suddenness  of  changes  to  which 
the  climate  at  these  altitudes  is  liable,  I  may  briefly 
sketch  it. 

*  Trails  cross  this  range  only  at  two  points,  eighty-five  miles  apart 


184  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

The  day  had  been  unusually  wind-still,  and  a  peculiar 
tinge  of  the  sky  had  made  us  remark  that  it  was  just  as 
well  to  get  as  soon  as  possible  to  the  end  of  this  barren 
backbone,  where  we  could  again  gain  the  uppermost  level 
of  timber.  But  good  and  wise  as  our  intentions  were, 
they  vanished  very  suddenly  at  the  sight  of  a  big  she- 
grizzly  with  two  cubs,  whom  I  discovered  quietly  feeding 
half  a  mile  off.  Hobbles  were  clapped  on  to  the  feet  of 
two  of  the  packhorses,  who  were  all  left  feeding  on  the 
short  Alpine  herbage,  while  we,  after  a  brief  consultation, 
scampered  off  as  fast  as  our  horses  would  take  us,  in  pur- 
suit of  the  "  bar.'^  It  was  an  exciting  but,  shameful  to 
say,  fruitless  hour's  chase.  All  three,  though  very 
severely  wounded,  got  off,  for  we  had  to  open  fire,  on 
account  of  the  barren  ground,  at  considerable  distance ; 
and  instead  of  charging,  as  we  had  expected  they  would, 
they  "  sloped,*'  the  rest  of  our  shots  being  put  in  in  a  more 
random  way. 

"When  the  chase  commenced  the  sky  was  still  bright, 
and  it  was  so  warm  that  we  were  riding  in  our  shirt 
sleeves,  notwithstanding  that  large  patches  of  snow  covered 
the  steep  Northern  slope  below  us.  When  the  chase  was 
finished  and  we  had  again  sobered  down  to  everyday 
calmness,  we  found  an  astonishing  change  had  occurred. 
The  wind  was  howling,  and  the  sky  had  assumed  a  most 
threatening  look,  an  aspect  of  such  savageness  as  I  have 
rarely  if  ever  seen.  We  had  no  goal  in  particular  in 
view,  and  would  have  gone  into  camp  there  and  then  had 
we  been  near  water  and  wood ;  but  timber  was  below  us, 
and  not  a  vestige  of  friendly  creek  or  lake  to  be  seen. 
Half  an  hour  later  the  storm  was  upon  us.  The  wind  had 
rapidly  incr«.ased  to  a  hurricane,  and  the  large  flakes  oi 


Camps  on  Timberline.  185 

snow  drove  before  it  with  an  incredible  force ;  happily 
it  was  not  bail,  for,  I  am  convinced  bad  it  been,  tbe  terrified 
animals  would  have  stampeded  there  and  then.  As  it  was, 
we  had  our  hands  full  to  keep  them  from  doing  so.  The 
storm  came  from  the  North-West ;  and  as  of  course  there 
was  no  possibility  of  getting  the  animals  to  face  it,  even 
had  we  been  able  or  inclined  to  undertake  such  an  ordeal 
ourselves,  we  were  driven  before  it,  as  it  happened,  in  the 
direction  we  were  intending  to  go.  The  storm  was 
rougher  on  us  than  on  the  horses,  for  we  were  still  in  our 
shirt  sleeves ;  and  as  there  was  no  chance  of  halting  the 
train  and  getting  out  coats  and  gloves — even  had  we  been 
able  to  undo  the  pack  ropes,  that,  first  soaked  through,  had 
speedily  turned  into  icy  knots,  which  fingers  even  less 
benumbed  than  ours  could  not  have  untied — we  had  to 
proceed  as  we  were.  It  was  a  critical  hour  that  we 
passed  driving  before  this  snow  hurricane.  Our  lives 
depended  upon  preventing  a  stampede,  for  once  parted 
from  our  horses,  and  thus  from  the  means  of  getting 
under  some  shelter  and  into  warmer  clothes,  there  would 
have  been  little  doubt  that  the  whole  outfit  would  have 
been  "  rubbed  out,"  as  effectually  as  any  ever  had  been  in 
consequence  of  a  similar  fix.  With  the  **  kitchen  pony  " 
on  the  line.  Port  tried  to  lead  the  others,  while  we  three 
guarded  the  flanks  and  rear.  The  snow  came  down  in  such 
dense  masses,  driving  horizontally  before  the  gale,  that  it 
had  got  quite  dark.  Often  Port  at  the  head  of  the  little 
band  of  horses,  twenty  yards  off,  was  perfectly  invisible 
to  me,  who  rode  in  the  rear.  We  were  all  getting  perfectly 
benumbed  with  the  cold,  for  the  wind  had  turned  into  icy 
blasts.  Boreas  proved  himself  a  jewel,  following,  when 
my  hands  refused  to  hold  the  bridle  any  longer,  and  were 


1 86  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

vainly  prospecting  for  warm  places  about  my  body,  the 
pressure  of  my  knee,  and  behaving  himself  generally  as  a 
most  intelligent  old  horse  when  any  of  the  frightened 
pack-horses  would  make  a  frantic  dash  to  one  side,  obliging 
the  one  nearest  to  follow  at  full  speed  and  head  the 
"  break  away  **  back.  The  wind  seemed  to  grow  colder 
every  minute :  everything  about  our  persons  turned  into 
ice.  Our  scanty  clothing  was  stiff,  the  rifles  were  coated 
with  it,  our  hair  and  beards  wore  miniature  icicles ;  every- 
thing, in  fact,  under  the  influence  of  the  hyperborean 
wind,  had  turned  to  gelid  rigidness. 

How  long  that  ride  lasted  none  of  us  ever  knew,  and  it 
was  subsequently  a  frequent  theme  of  amicable  dispute. 
It  was  not  quite  "  eternity  less  five  minutes,"  and  neither 
"  all  what  a  stem-winder  *  could  do  to  record  it/*  as  Edd 
and  Henry  said :  but  probably  it  was  an  hour  and  a  half — 
an  hour  on  the  ridge,  the  remainder  on  the  slopes — till  wo 
camped.  The  first  intimation  of  the  latter  was  Port's : 
*'  Boys,  I  have  struck  water,  and  wood  can't  be  far."  It 
was  a  little  bit  of  a  trickling  creek,  and  of  the  wood 
nothing  as  yet  was  visible.  A  halt  was  called,  and  amid 
the  raging  snowstorm  we  unpacked,  by  doing  in  one  or  two 
cases  of  refractory  knots,  what  a  "Western  man  will  only 
do  in  the  direst  extremity,  namely,  cut  the  lash  ropes,  for 
a  *'  lash  *'  with  a  knot  in  it  is  next  to  worthless,  and  we 
had  hardly  any  spare  ones  with  us.  But  none  of  us  were 
in  the  humour  to  reprove  the  others  for  these  outrages, 
for  as  poor  Henry,  whose  shirt  was  especially  thin  in 
many  places,  expressed  himself,  he  *'felt  half  gone  up, 
and  the  other  half  was  frozen."  So  down  the  •*  packs  " 
came  with  incredible  speed,  and  soon  the  snowy  ground 
*  Bemontoire  watches  are  called  stem-winderB  in  America. 


Camps  on  Timber li.ie.  187 

was  littered  with  our  household  ^^oods.  The  horses  were 
our  chief  anxiety.  We  could  not  possibly  tie  them  up  01 
picket  them,  and  we  had  only  two  pair  of  hobbles  in  the 
outfit.  So,  trusting  as  usual  to  luck,  and  hoping  that 
they  would  not  leave  Wyoming  by  the  shortest  route,  but 
rather  seek  the  shelter  of  the  nearest  forest,  we  put  the 
shackles  on  the  two  fattest,  who  were  best  able  to  with- 
stand the  cold  with  less  freedom  of  movement,  and  turned 
them  out.  They  were  off  in  a  second,  the  hobbled  ones 
following  with  ominous  rapidity.  Every  one  of  us 
as  two  days  afterwards  we  acknowledged  to  each  other, 
thought,  as  we  saw  them  gallop  off,  that  we  had  seen  the 
last  of  "  them  thar  horses  ;"  for  under  such  circumstances 
animals  will  roam  off  for  fifty  and  sixty  miles ;  but  at  the 
time  we  all  kept  our  impressions  to  ourselves,  for  none 
of  us  were,  as  the  Western  man  expresses  it,  given  to 
"  borrow  trouble." 

Sacrificing  one  of  the  three  sailcloth  bedcovers,  which 
were  very  large  and  waterproof,  we  got  all  the  bedding 
and  the  **  dry  "  packs  under  cover.  The  wind  was  far  too 
high  for  us  to  raise  the  tent,  even  had  our  frost-benumbed 
hands  been  capable  of  accomplishing  this.  So,  while  two 
held  the  corners  of  the  sail-cover,  the  other  two  got 
underneath,  and  in  a  kneeling  position  got  at  the  "  Sara- 
togas *'  containing  our  spare  clothes,  and  then,  with  the 
snow  driving  in  on  all  sides,  we  stripped  and  got  dry 
clothes  and  thick  coats  on  our  backs.  Then  only,  while  so 
engaged,  were  mutual  remarks  made,  that  noses  and  ears 
"  looked  cheesy ,'*  or  in  other  words  were  frost-bitten ;  so 
when  the  change  of  toilette  had  been  effected,  and  we  were 
returning  the  kind  offices  of  the  first  who  "  sat  down  "  the 
dressing-room,  we  gave  those  troublesome  facial  memberg 


iSS  Cardps  in  the  Rockies » 

sound  rubbings  of  snow.  "With  shaggy  buffalo  coats,  warm 
gloves,  and  thick  overall  trousers  on  us,  the  aspect  of  things 
improved  considerably.  Night  was  fast  closing  in,  and  there 
was  no  time  to  be  lost  in  looking  for  wood.  Following  for 
some  little  time  the  tracks  of  the  horses,  whose  instinct  to 
find  shelter  in  such  cases  is  the  very  best  guide,  we 
presently  came  to  the  conclusion  that  we  "  didn't  want  a 
fire  after  all,"  or,  in  other  words,  that  even  did  we  find 
wood  it  would  be  impossible  to  make  a  fire  in  the  high 
wind  in  the  entirely  shelterless  position  our  camp  was  in. 
With  grim  sneers  at  each  other  we  agreed  that  this  bright 
thought  might  have  struck  us  before.  On  getting  back 
to  camp — not  the  easiest  task,  for  the  snow  hurricane  had 
not  abated,  and  it  was  impossible  to  see  further  than  ten 
or  fifteen  yards — three  of  us  again  held  down  the  dress- 
ing-room, \\hile  Henry,  the  slimmest,  crawled  in  and 
spread  our  robes,  which,  rolled  up,  had  not  got  very  wet. 
Two  loaves  of  bread  of  the  morning's  baking,  which 
most  fortunately  had  not  been  eaten  at  the  mid- day  meal, 
were  divided  and  taken  to  bed  to  be  eaten  at  warmer 
leisure,  while  a  good  pull  at  the  keg — it  is  on  such  occa- 
sions that  spirits  are  really  welcome — comforted  the  inner 
man.  While  Henry  was  "  bed  making  '*  we  contrived  to 
fasten  down  the  protecting  sailcloth,  by  heaping  all  the 
saddles,  pack-saddles,  traps,  and  other  such  like  weights, 
on  the  side  exposed  to  the  wind,  and  by  using  the  pickaxe 
as  an  anchor.  When  everything  was  ready  we  crept  into 
the  narrow  space,  just  sufficient  to  hold  us  and  our  rifles 
sardine-fashion,  and  after  divesting  ourselves  of  the  outer 
garments,  which  had  again  become  snow-drenched,  we  were 
soon  snug  and  warm  under  the  four  or  five  buffalo  robes  and 
odd  blankets ;  while  the  two    most  miserable-looking  dogs 


Camps  on  Timber  line,  189 

you  ever  saw  found  a  warm  corner  at  our  feet,  where,  not. 
withstanding  the  grateful  shelter,  they  continued  to  shiver 
for  an  unconscionable  long  time ;  for,  as  Port  said,  poor 
brutes  they  had  to  dry  their  shirts  on  their  own  backs. 

Notwithstanding  the  singular  surroundings,  we  passed 
quite  a  comfortable  night,  far  more  so  than  many  I  have 
spent  in  the  uplands  of  the  Old  or  New  World ;  though  it 
reminded  me  of  one  in  particular,  a  cool  December  night 
I  once  passed  on  the  floor  of  a  deserted  Alpine  ch^et, 
where  not  even  hay  was  to  be  found,  wedged  in  between 
two  other  shivering  lumps  of  clay,  the  whole  three  covered 
by  the  heavy  door  of  the  hut,  the  only  cover  we  could  find, 
and  which  at  least  protected  us  against  the  snow  that 
whirled  about  the  partly  roofless  tenement. 

It  was  broad  daylight  when  we  awoke.  Not  having  a 
serviceable  watch,  we  were,  when  sun  and  stars  were 
invisible,  as  on  this  occasion,  in  pleasant  uncertainty  as  to 
the  flight  of  time.  The  wind  had  gone  down,  but  the 
snow  was  falling  fast ;  and  when  at  last  after  a  deal  of 
mutual  recriminations  and  courageous  talk  one  of  us  had 
the  moral  fortitude  to  creep  out  of  the  snug  lair,  and  peep 
out  from  underneath  the  tarpaulin,  which  lay  heavy  on 
us,  it  was  found  that  snow  lay  already  to  considerable 
depth,  and  probably  would  be  half  a  foot  more  by  the 
evening,  for  there  were  no  signs  that  the  weather  was 
'*  letting  up."  We  were  very  comfortable  where  we  were. 
The  pickaxe  and  shovel  set  on  end  served  as  miniature 
tentpoles,  preventing  the  soaked  canvas  bedraggling  our 
robes,  and  giving  us  breathing,  and  even  smoking  space. 
Had  it  not  been  for  our  inner  persons  the  day  would  have 
passed  not  so  disagreeably,  though  on  account  of  the  con- 
fined nature  all  evolutions,  such  as  turning  from  one  side 


IQO  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

to  another,  had  to  he  done  en  uasse  at  the  word  of  com- 
maud,  and  our  lower  extremities  were  getting  somewhat 
cramped  from  the  dead  weight  of  the  two  dogs,  who  were 
constantly  being  turned  over  to  the  neighbours*  feet. 
But,  as  I  have  hinted,  hunger  was  the  boss  ;  and  presently 
hints  began  to  be  loosely  thrown  round  that  somebody  had 
to  get  up.  My  proposal  to  keep  the  bed  warm  against 
their  return  was  received  with  cynical  applause,  and  un- 
pleasant allusions  that  if  I  did  that  they  would  eat  against 
my  feeling  hungry — which  sally  seemed  to  them  far  more 
witty  than  it  did  to  me. 

Nobody  stirred  ;  for  an  hour  or  so  the  assuaging  effect 
of  tobacco  wrestled  with  that  self-winding  monster  housed 
below  our  belts  ;  but  it  was  only  for  a  time.  Then  conver- 
sation took  a  more  businesslike  and  less  desperately  witty 
turn.  The  contents  of  the  kitchen  puck  was  passed  in 
mental  survey.  This  review  revealed  the  fact  that  there 
was  a  large  pot  full  of  beans,  the  last  of  the  lot  we  got  a 
month  ago  at  the  fort  These  beans,  housed  in  their  iron 
pot,  closed  with  a  well-fitting  lid,  had  been  in  a  semi- boiled 
condition  for  the  last  four  or  five  days ;  for,  as  everybody 
knows  who  has  ever  tried  to  boil  beans  in  the  West,  and 
particularly  at  high  altitudes,  it  takes  *'  a  week  to  boil  them, 
a  fortnight  to  chew  them,  and  eternity  to  digest  them/* 
Our  beans  had  been  simmering  over  half  a  dozen  fires,  and 
still  Henry,  who  had  their  management,  adjudged  them  as 
unfit  to  eat,  describing  their  hardness  as  making  them 
fatal  weapons  in  the  hands  of  one  who  "  kin  heave  a  rock.'*  * 
After  this  we  relapsed  into  silence,  each  busy  with  his  own 
thoughts  and  with   his  own  hunger.     Mine  todk  flight— 

The  Western  "  boj  '*  never  says  "  throw  a  stone,'*  but  **  throw,** 
w  **  boave,  a  rock." 


Camps  on  Timberltne,  191 

the  former,  alas !  not  the  latter — ^to  more  summerly 
regions.  It  was  strange  to  think  that  on  this  blessed 
30th  of  August,  while  we  were  being  slowly  snowed  up  on 
the  very  top  of  the  highest  range  in  the  Northern  Eocky 
Mountains,  friends  were  probably  enjoying  delightful  dips 
in  the  tepid  waters  of  Longbranch  or  Newport,  or  even 
Coney  Island,  awakening  the  germ  of  a  healthy  limch 
appetite — the  very  thought  of  which  artificial  means  of 
building  up  one  of  your  sluggish  but  civilized  hungers 
bringing  a  sneer  of  superiority  to  my  lips.  Edd,  who  for 
a  Western  boy  had  a  pronounced  romantic  vein  in  his 
composition,  disturbed  my  cogitations  by  asking  me  if  I 
knew  who  was  the  author  of  "  Snow,  the  beautiful  snow.'* 
He  had  once  read  it,  and  thought  the  writer  of  it  **  a  coon 
as  was  mad  afore  he  was  born."  Port,  and  even  Henry, 
had  "  heerd  tell ''  of  this  depraved  maniac,  and  indulged 
in  typical  Western  humour  at  his  expense.  According  to 
them  no  torture  of  the  Spanish  Inquisition  seemed  adequate 
to  punish  that  misguided  genius  for  giving  immortality  to 
such  idiotic  sentiments.  One  of  the  proposed  chastise- 
ments, decidedly  the  most  original,  was  to  make  "  the  dog- 
gamed  ink-slinging  word-stringer  boil  that  pot  of  beans 
till  they  were  soft,  and  do  it  in  his  shirt-tail;  and  make 
him  swear  on  a  stack  of  a  certain  book  never  to  tell  no 
one  how  long  it  took  him  " — a  fate  that,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, seemed  to  me  the  essence  of  inhuman  cruelty. 
Not  so,  however,  to  Henry,  whose  mind  had  a  leaning 
towards  the  Indian's  love  for  inventing  exquisite  tortures, 
for  he  added,  "  And,  boys,  by  the  jumping  Moses,  we'd 
make  him  sit  in  the  snow  and  watch  us  eat  them  when 
they  ar'  soft/' 
Whether  it  was  the  irresistible  suggestiveness  of  the 


192  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

word  "  eat,"  or  whether  the  whole  tone  of  conversation 
was  becoming  unbearably  funny,  I  know  not,  but  blankets 
and  robes  were  suddenly  thrown  back,  and  after  huddling 
on  their  extra  clothing,  my  three  companions  made  a 
start.  The  querry,  "  Coming  along,  boss  ?  '*  made  by 
Port,  was  tersely  answered,  "  No,  I'U  stay."  "  You'll  stay 
with  the  beans,  you  mean,"  equivocated  he,  who  had 
rightly  guessed  certain  dark  hints  thrown  out  by  me. 

And  I  did  stay  with  them ;  for  while  the  men  in  the 
waning  afternoon  light  were  absent  hunting  for  wood, 
finally  returning  to  camp  after  more  than  half  an  hour's 
absence,  each  dragging  behind  him  a  dead  tree,  and  after 
many  ineffectual  attempts,  at  last  succeeded  in  lighting  a 
fire,  getting  thoroughly  soaked  in  doing  so,  I  had  inspected 
the  bean-pot  to  some  purpose.  There  is  truth,  I  found,  in 
the  Western  saying,  ''Beans  is  pison  if  youain*t  'forking* 
(riding)  a  bucking  cayuse,"  that  being  about  the  only 
extraneous  aid  to  digestion  by  which  their  very  self- 
asserting  deadweight  can  be  subdued  ;  and  this  I  speedily 
began  to  realize.  Like  a  straining  vessel  with  a  shifting 
cargo  labouring  heavily  in  the  troughs  of  the  Atlantic,  I 
tossed  that  blessed  cargo  of  pebbles  from  side  to  side,  and 
soon  the  bed  seemed  too  small  to  hold  the  beans  and  me. 
It  got  worse,  when  presently  the  men,  their  appetites 
appeased  by  half -cooked  venison  and  half-baked  dough, 
returned  to  their  quarters. 

When  the  31st  of  August  dawned,  it  was  generally 
agreed  that  I  had  passed  a  restless  night,  that  they  had 
passed  a  restless  night,  and  that  decidedly  the  beans  had, 
too,  experienced  a  rough  time. 

The  forenoon  was  a  dreary  repetition  of  the  preceding 
day,  only  that  snow  lay  now  up  to  our  knees.     Towards 


f^amps  on  Timber  line.  193 

noon,  however,  it  began  to  clear,  and  the  change  for  the 
better  was  as  rapid  as,  two  days  before,  it  had  been  the 
other  way.  The  snow  was  shovelled  aside,  the  tent  raised, 
and  we  all  started  to  look  for  the  horses.  Hunting  for 
strayed  horses  is  a  profound  science,  and  life-long  ex- 
perience had,  of  course,  made  the  men  wonderful  experts 
at  it.  If  they  were  anywhere  in  the  country  we  would 
recover  them;  and  we  did,  for  though  the  search  that 
afternoon  was  unsuccessful,  Port  tracked  them  the  follow- 
ing day  to  a  glade  in  the  forest  comparatively  close — not 
more  than  three  or  four  miles  off. 

A  breeze  had  in  the  meanwhile  sprung  up  whirling  the 
snow  about,  rendering  the  atmospliere  very  thick,  and  not 
allowing  us  to  see  further  than  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  or 
80.  But  it  gradually  subsided ;  the  sun  burst  out,  and  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  afternoon  we  had  balmy  autumn  weather 
and  sublime  winter  scenery,  disclosing  to  us  our  surround- 
ings. But  where  were  we  ?  Not  fifty  yards  from  the  very 
summit  of  the  ridge !  While  the  first  trees  grew  a  good 
many  hundred  feet  below  us,  proving  that  while  in  the 
latter  part  of  our  wanderings  before  pitching  camp  we 
had  imagined  we  were  descending  a  gentle  slope,  we  had 
kept  on  a  level  with  the  place  wlien  the  storm  first 
struck  us ;  indeed,  if  anything  our  camp  was  the  higher 
of  the  two  spots.  The  dead  trees  discovered  by  the  men 
during  the  snowstorm  when  looking  for  wood,  were  the 
remains  of  a  few  advanced  but  stricken  scouts  of  the 
main  forest  that  lay  below  them.  Only  on  ascending  the 
insignificant  slope  did  it  strike  us  on  what  elevated 
spot  we  had  weathered  this  summerly  snow  hurricane, 
for  from  it  we  saw  both  slopes  of  the  giant  range;  and 
the  dome-shaped  summit  of  a  great  peak  looked  a  mere 

o 


194  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

high  hill  as  in  comparatively  gentle  slopes  it  rose  fi'om 
the  main  backbone. 

Two  da3'8  after  our  release  from  snowy  bondage,  you 
could  have  seen  me  ascending  the  800  or  1000  feet  of  the 
mountain  near  which  we  found  ourselves  camped.  The 
sun  shines  warm  and  bright,  and  the  air  seems  keener 
and  lighter  than  ever.  From  the  top  an  immensely  vast 
landscape  is  to  be  seen.  Standing  at  my  horse's  side 
and  leaning  over  his  back,  using  the  saddle  as  a  desk,  I 
bketch  in  brief  myrioramic  outline  the  landscape,  for 
the  peak  is,  on  account  of  its  isolated  position,  a  remark- 
ably favourable  point  of  view.  Towards  the  north-west 
I  can  descry  the  steam  from  the  nearest  Yellowstone 
ge^'ser,  eighty  or  ninety  miles  off,  rising  over  a  lower 
lange  of  mountains.  That  is  all  I  can  see  of  the  Yellow- 
stone region,  for  immediately  in  front  of  me,  trending 
Eastwards,  there  lies  a  vast  sea  of  broken  country, 
savagely  hacked  and  torn  by  a  maze  of  huge  fissures  and 
gloomy  canyon-l:ke  valleys,  from  which  rise  an  infinity 
of  strangely-formed  peaks  and  pinnacles.  It  is  the  weird 
Sierra  Soshone — a  great  ocean,  as  Captain  Jones  says,  of 
purgatorial  wave-work,  having  the  appearance  as  if  Goi*s 
wrath  had  rested  longer  on  this  sublime  chaos  than  on 
most  other  spots.  There  is  little  timber  about  it,  save  on 
the  lower  slopes,  thereby  increasing  the  forbidding  look 
of  this  upheaved  sea.  Far  away,  eighty  miles  from 
our  point  of  view,  we  see  rising  from  a  broad  mauvaisea 
terres  table-land  a  well-known  trapper  landmark,  the 
fantastic-bhaped  cone  called  CrowheartButtes,  a  mountain 
of  grim  history.  On  its  height,  a  natural  fortress  impreg 
nable  as  no  other  natural  formation  I  know  of,  some 
years  ago  eight  Crow  Indian  warriors,  deserted  by  their 


Camps  on  Timber  line.  195 

comrades,  retreated  before  an  overwhelming  force  of  Sioux 
foes.  The  latter,  unable  to  get  at  them,  drew  a  cordon  ol 
watch-fires  round  their  enemies'  retreat,  and  starved  them 
out.  On  scaling  the  hill  and  finding  them  dead,  the  red- 
skinned  fiends  tore  out  the  hearts  of  the  brave  eight,  and 
devoured  them  there  and  then. 

The  three  rivers  whose  headwaters  take  their  rise  on 
the  slopes  of  the  mountain  I  am  on,  are  destined  to  be 
the  three  greatest  rivers  of  the  West,  the  smallest  of 
which  has  a  course  of  over  2000  miles,  and  drains  300,000 
square  miles  of  country.  One — the  Big  Wind  River,^  the 
chief  confluent  of  the  Upper  Missouri — flows  into  the 
Atlantic;  the  Grosventre'  joins  its  waters  with  those  of 
the  world-renowned  Columbia,  increasing  the  volume 
of  the  Northern  Pacific  Ocean;  while  the  Green  River, 
or  Colorado,  sends  its  waters  into  the  Gulf  of  Cali- 
fornia. Such  is  the  maze  of  creeks,  silvery  little  streaks 
peeping  forth  from  the  green  sea  of  forest,  that  it  is 
quite  impossible  to  tell  the  ultimate  goal  of  any  one 
in  particular,  without  following  its  course  for  many 
miles. 

There  are  spots  on  the  Divide  where  the  sources  of  two 
creeks — one  flowing  to  the  Atlantic,  the  other  to  the 
Pacific — are  within  rifle-shot  of  each  other;  and  on 
several  occasions  the  morning's  coflfee  was  made  from 
Atlantic  and  Pacific  water,  not  more  than  200  yaids 
separating  the  springs.  In  a  day's  travel  in  these 
regions  you  "  fill  your  boots  "  again  and  again  with  both 
waters ;  for  often  you  have,  while  following  the  craggy 

*  It  changes  its  name,  and  floves  as  the  Bighorn  into  the  Yellow* 
•tone. 

•  One  of  the  headwaters  of  the  Snake. 

o  2 


ig6  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

course  of  a  creek,  to  ford  it  seven  or  eight  times  in  half 
that  number  of  hours. 

Indeed,  I  know  of  one,  from  an  hydrographical  stand- 
point most  interesting  spot,  where  within  an  area  of  one 
square  mile  there  are  actually  three  creeks,  each  flowing 
into  one  or  the  other  of  the  three  great  river  systems;  while 
from  a  small  lake  on  the  very  top  of  the  ridge  leading  to  the 
summit  of  Union  Peak,  there  were,  when  I  visited  it  in 
1880,  two  outlets,  one  at  each  end,  both  forming  trickling 
creeks ;  the  one  flowing  down  the  Eastern  slope  being 
Atlantic,  the  other  Pacific  water — an  instance,  if  not 
unique,  though  certainly  of  rare  occurrence  in  potamology. 

Our  vision  is  very  extended :  in  the  few  places  where 
intervening  mountain  chains  do  not  obstruct  the  view  the 
diameter  of  the  circle  we  overlook  is  scarcely  less  than 
400  miles,  perhaps  more.  To-day  the  country  we  see  is 
decidedly  the  most  secluded  portion  of  the  Eockies,  for  in 
those  portions  of  the  landscape  over  which  our  vision  is 
unrestricted  there  is  not  a  single  white-man's  settlement, 
and  probably  there  were  not  more  than  half-a-dozen  human 
beings,  aside  of  Indians,  abiding  in  it. 

As  far  as  the  eye  can  reach  in  a  westerly  direction — and 
in  this  atmosphere  it  will  range  over  an  amazing  extent — 
vast  forests  greet  the  eye,  from  which  at  Tin'.berline  the 
giants  of  the  chain,  with  their  snowy  entourage,  rear  their 
heads.  There  are  no  very  boldly-shaped  peaks  among 
them.  All  are  massive  and  huge  as  were  they  aware  that 
they  form  the  great  backbone  of  the  continental  watershed. 
The  highest  of  all,  Fremont's  Peak,  is  eighty  miles  ofi".* 

There  is  a  very  singular  feature  to  be  noticed  on  the  very 

*  The  latest  surveys  have  "  moved  "  this  peak  to  a  point  oonsideri 
ably  north  of  itii  site  on  the  first  maps  of  1873. 


Camps  on  Timber  line.  197 

summit  of  this  watershed.  For  twenty  miles  on  either  side 
of  our  camp  the  slopes  were  covered  by  loose  stones  and 
gravel,  known  to  miners  as  "ocean  wash."  Of  the  in- 
separable companion  of  the  adventurous  frontiersman,  the 
gold-pan,'  we  had  two  examples  with  us,  and  they  proved 
what  had  been  told  to  us  before,  that  we  were  walking  on 
gold.  Of  the  hundreds  of  pans  my  men  "  washed  out/'  none 
contained  less  than  five  or  six,  and  a  good  many  as  much 
as  twenty  **  colours,"  or  fine  flukes  of  the  precious  metal. 
Water  in  sufficient  quantity  handy,  this  forty-mile  stretch 
would  yield  untold  riches — which,  alas,  in  the  absence  of 
that  sine  qua  non,  must  remain  where  they  are,  some 
11,000  feet  over  the  busy  bustling  ant-hill,  lapped  by 
water  that  once  dashed  in  unbroken  rollers  over  these 
stupendous  heights.  Undoubtedly  the  whole  district  will 
be,  in  not  too  long  a  time,  a  great  mining  camp;  but 
unlike  a  small  one,  that  some  years  ago  dug  up,  blasted, 
and  washed  a  hillock  we  passed  some  time  before,  its 
members  will  probably  not  fall  victims  to  the  redskins' 
scalping- knives,  as  did  the  twenty  odd  old  Forty-niners 
whose  unwise  intrepidity  resulted  in  the  loss  of  their 
hair — and  lives.  A  few  burnt  logs,  and  a  rusty  gun-barrel 
or  two,  are  all  that  remain  of  Ragtown,  which  is  said  to 
have  been  the  most  elevated  mining  camp  of  the  day. 

'  Though  this  verj'  simple  utensil  has  been  described  hundreds  of 
times,  it  is  generally  supposed  to  be  a  more  elaborate  machine.  It  is 
a  flat  bowl-shaped  pan,  remotely  resembling  a  barber's  dish,  some 
eighteen  inches  in  diameter.  It  must  be  held  just  right,  and  shaken  in 
such  a  manner,  by  a  halt'  rotarj^  half  rocking  motion,  that  the  water  it 
contains,  besides  the  sand  (which  is  replenished  every  half  minute  or  so), 
shall  drift  awaj'  all  the  loose  worthless  stuff,  and  let  the  gold  stay 
behind.  The  knack  is  to  agitate  the  whole  panful  of  water,  and 
"  dirt  "  80  as  to  allow  the  heavy  gold  to  sink  to  the  bottom. 


1 98  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

For  nearly  seven  weeks  the  weather  was  all  that  could 
be  desired ;  each  day  seemed  lovelier  than  the  last ;  con- 
firming the  pleasant  experience  I  had  made  the  previous 
year,  when  from  August  to  December  we  were  travelling 
over  less  elevated  ground,  and  not  a  single  drop  of  rain  fell, 
with  tlie  exception  of  two  short  though  very  terrific 
thunderstorms.  This  absence  of  moisture  is  a  very  enjoy- 
able feature,  for  it  seems  as  if  no  exposure  could  injure 
your  health.  For  myself  I  have  never  felt  so  well  as 
when  undergoing  fairly  rough  hardships  in  the  way  of 
great  cold  and  snow,  while  in  autumn  weather  and  bright 
winter  days  it  is  literally  a  pleasure  to  live.*  In  the  latter 
half  of  September  two  short  snowstorms  surprised  us — one 
m  a  sufficiently  awkward  position,  for  we  had  temporarily 
lost  our  way  in  an  upland  stretch  of  exceptionally  dense 
timber,  compelling  us  to  camp  there  and  then  without 
any  regard  to  the  question  of  water,  for  fear  our  frightened 
horses — alarmed  by  the  roar  of  the  wind  through  the 
timber,  and  the  frequent  fall  of  dead  trees,  which  come 
down  with  a  startling  report — should  stampede  and  get 
lost ;  for  it  is  surprising  how  rapidly  you  lose  sight  of  a 
straying  horse  in  dense  forest,  and  once  lost  to  your  view 
the  chances  are  that  in  the  vast  woods  the  animal  will 
remain  so.  As  the  position  was  sheltered  we  picketed  the 
whole  lot,  and  thirty-six  hours  afterwards  were  again  on 
the  way.     On  the  day  that  we  were  snowbound  in  this 

■  According  to  the  most  reliable  observations,  which  tally  with  my 
own  experience,  there  are  in  Wyoming  and  Montana,  on  an  average, 
from  290  to  310  perfectly  fine  sunny  days  per  annum.  Rather  a 
contrast  to  the  178  days  on  which  rain  falls,  and  the  106  sunless  or 
cloudy  days  (in  an  average  of  twenty-three  years)  in  the  valley  of  thf 
Thames  I     See  Appendix. 


Camps  on  Timber  line,  199 

place  a  ludicrous  camp  incident  occurred  to  me,  which 
raised  general  hilarity.  We  were  running  very  short  of 
soap,  chiefly  owing  to  the  fact  that  some  of  our  original 
stock  was  cachedy  together  with  some  spare  flour,  at  a  point 
we  could  not  reach  in  less  than  a  week^s  time.  I  decided 
therefore  to  manufacture  some  of  that  most  necessary 
article,  and  was  rather  proul  of  the  chance  of  showing 
the  men  that  while  they  could  and  did  teach  me  a  lot  of 
useful  domestic  arts,  I  would  have  an  opportunity  of 
teaching  them  something.  My  introduction,  "You  just 
«vatch  and  see  me  make  soap ;  its  easy  enough,'*  was 
hardly  needed,  for  they  were  all  attention.  So,  while  the 
snowstorm  raged  and  the  wind  howled,  I  began  my 
manipulation.  But,  as  the  sequel  will  show,  the  old  adage 
that  a  little— in  this  instance  a  very  little — knowledge  is 
worse  than  none,  proved  true.  I  fancied  that  I  remem- 
bered to  have  once  been  taught  that  soup  was  made  of 
tallow,  lye,  and  lime  ;  but  being  neither  a  chemist  nor  a 
geoh)gist,  I  committed  the  grave  error  of  supposing  that  the 
alkaline  earth  of  the  usual  bad-land  formation,  containing 
a  large  percentage  of  soda  or  alkali,  would  act  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  lime.  After  filling  the  camp  kettle  with  lye  of 
wood  ashes,  concentrated  by  several  hours  boiling,  I  began 
to  mix  it  in  the  gold-pan  with  some  elk  tallow  and  alkaline 
earth,  using  my  hands  for  this  purpose.  To  my  surprise 
the  result  was  a  sticky,  tar-like,  greasy,  black  mess,  of  the 
consistency  of  thick  glue — in  fact,  anything  but  soap;  and 
when  I  finally  gave  up  the  attempt,  I  found  to  my  horror 
that  the  black  stuff"  coating  my  hands  resisted  all  attempts 
to  remove  it.  I  tried  every  conceivable  means  to  get  it 
off",  parboiling  tliem  in  steaming  water,  rubbing  them 
«vitli  gunpowder,  salt,  pitch  from  the  trees,  earth,  ashes, 


200  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

steeping  them  till  I  could  bear  it  no  longer  in  tlie  hoi 
l^^e;  but  everything  failed  to  remove  the  infernal  tarry 
stuff  from  my  hands.  Even  half  a  pint  of  precious  whiskey 
was  wasted  in  my  vain  endeavour  to  subdue  the  "  boss's 
soap,"  as  of  course  it  at  onco  was  nicknamed.  The  men 
laughed  till  tears  coursed  down  their  cheeks ;  and  I  threat- 
ened to  try  some  of  them^  if  they  did  not  desist.  Finally, 
just  as  I  was  getting  fiercely  desperate,  a  sudden  thought 
—  as  the  sequel  will  show,  decidedly  not  a  soapsud-den 
thought — crossed  my  brain;  it  was  to  use  "saleratus/* 
which  we  used  instead  of  yeast  powder  for  baking 
bread.  Henry  put  a  lot  in  the  washhand  basin — for  of 
course,  I  could  not  touch  anything  while  my  hands  were 
in  the  state  they  were  in — and  when  it  had  dissolved  in  the 
hot  water  which  he  poured  on  the  white  powder,  I  pro- 
ceeded to  steep  them  in  it.  It  made  matters  not  better, 
but  worse.  There  was  a  distinct  *'  fiz "  on  immersion ; 
and  some  wretched  chemical  process  must  have  been 
enacted,  for  the  stuff  had  concentrated  itself  to  the 
consistency  of  melted  indiarubber.  For  hours  I  sat 
in  a  most  helpless  manner  on  a  snowbank,  nursing  my 
hands.  They  had  the  appearance  of  having  been  steeped 
in  a  pitcher  of  tar ;  and  as  the  men,  not  without  some 
truth  remarked,  "  that  soap  had  indeed  gone  back  on 
the  boss  and  funeralized  him  in  the  most  all-fired 
deci-sivest  manner;"  while  the  idiotic  young  Henry,  a 
propos  of  my  taking  roof  on  that  snowbank,  began  telling 
that  old  story  of  a  frontier  maiden,  who  at  a  dance  re- 
mained for  a  long  time  partnerless,  and  when  finally  some 
kind  being  did  ask  her  for  a  turn,  she  electrified  him  by 
her  '*  Yes,  sir-ree,  for  IVe  sot  and  sot  and  sot  till  I  have 
about  tuk  root/'     Fortunately  I  was  among  Americans, 


Camps  on  Timber  line,  20i 

80  I  was  spared  the  infliction  of  choice  doggerel,  where 
Tears  and  Pears^  and  Soap  and  Soap  (Western  spelling) 
were  impressed.  To  cut  short  a  long  day's  misery— I  had  to 
sacrifice  one  of  the  two  pairs  of  winter  gloves  I  had  with 
me,  and  draw  them  on,  so  as  at  least  to  be  able  to  eat,  and 
use  my  hands  for  the  most  necessary  purposes. 

The  next  day  I  cut  them  off ;  and  as  the  stuff  had  got 
dry,  I  managed  with  a  blunt  skinning-knife  to  scrape  off 
the  worst  part,  leaving  my  skin  raw  and  sore  ;  but  it  took 
months  to  remove  the  last  traces,  indeed,  not  till  I  reached 
the  Fort,  and  steeped  them  in  some  anti-soap-generating 
acid.  It  was  altogether  one  of  the  few  incidents  that 
refused  to  yield  a  bright  or  useful  side,  except  perhaps 
the  one  that  it  showed  how  not  to  make  soap. 

In  the  stretches  of  dense  timber  the  difficulties  of  travel 
were  often  of  the  most  perplexing  character ;  and  the  two 
axes,  handled  in  turns  on  those  occasions,  came  in  for  con- 
stant exercise.  Here  my  trophies  in  the  shape  of  Wapiti 
antlers  gave  us  endless  trouble,  for  their  length — exceed- 
ing six  feet,  including  the  skull  bone — made  a  path  of  at 
least  that  width  imperative,  for  the  horns  could  of  course 
only  be  roped  down  crossways  on  the  horses'  backs. 

Often  we  would  get  for  hours  helplessly  corralled  in  a 
*'  windfall,"  into  which,  not  unlike  a  maze,  it  was  easier  to 
enter  than  to  find  your  way  out.  Here  human  patience 
was  frequently  sorely  tested  by  brute  perversity,  for  on 
such  occasions  the  animals  delighted  in  exhibiting  all  the 
meanness  that  was  in  them. 

In  places  the  forests  grew  on  steep  slopes  full  of  abrupt 
gullies  and  gorges,  where  some  wonderful  climbing  up  and 
slithering  down  of  the  horses  was  to  be  seen.  On  one  such 
occasion  I  saw  old  John  perform  a  roll,  or  rather  fall,  down 


202  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

a  fcteep  slope  that  really  approached  the  marvellous,  not 
only  because  he  was  not  instantly  killed,  but  also  on 
account  that  not  a  single  tine  of  the  two  pair  of  huge  Wapiti 
heads  of  which  his  load  consisted,  was  injured.  I  have  seen 
a  good  many  wonderful  performances  of  Western  horses, 
many  of  which,  were  I  to  relate  them,  would  be  put  down 
as  "  travellers'  tales,''  but  this  special  feat  beat  everything 
of  the  kind. 

The  '^  kitchen  pony  " — the  steadiest  of  the  lot,  bearing 
the  hatterie  de  cuisine — is,  of  course,  the  one  of  whom  most 
care  is  taken,  indeed  usually  he  is  the  only  one  that  is  led, 
the  rest  following.  In  parties  such  as  ours  he  occupies  the 
position  of  the  cook  in  the  travelling  train  of  medieval 
lords.  Mishap  to  him  is  the  most  serious  thing  that  can 
befall  the  party  ;  and  our  anxiety  on  the  occurrence  of  a 
stampede  to  know  whether  the  ''kitchen  pony  "  was  among 
the  fugitives,  reminded  me  of  Brillat-Savarin's  excellent 
story  of  an  Italian  prince,  who,  when  travelling  over 
dangerous  paths  to  his  country-house,  was  accompanied 
by  his  Sicilian  cook,  a  master  of  his  art.  At  a  dangerous 
point  of  the  road,  the  prince,  riding  at  the  head  of  his  long 
cavalcade,  heard  a  shriek  and  the  splash  of  a  body  fulling 
into  the  torrent  far  below.  With  a  face  white  with  terror 
he  pulled  up,  and  looking  back,  exclaimed,  *'  The  cook  ! 
the  cook  !  Holy  Virgin,  the  cook  !  "  "  No,  your  excel- 
lency,'' cried  a  voice  from  the  rear ;  '*  it  is  Don  Prosdo- 
cimo !  '*  The  prince  heaved  a  sigh  of  profound  relief. 
•*  Ah,  only  the  chaplain  I "  said  he.  "  Heaven  be 
thanked ! " 

Speaking  of  vast  forests,  it  would  be  natural  that  I 
should  also  revert  to  getting  lost  in  them.  Few  incidents 
of  travel  in  strange  countries  have  been  treated  with  such 


Camps  on  Timber  line.  203 

fantastical  sensationalism  as  being  lost.  Let  them  be 
ever  so  exaggerated,  they  certainly  do  not  speak  well  for 
the  superiority  of  our  civilization.  Neither  the  rough 
and  ignorant  trapper  nor  the  primitive  Indian  ever  gets 
lost.  Either  muy  lose  their  way,  and  be  obliged  to  make 
unpleasant  shifts  fo.'  a  night ;  but  one  never  hears  of  theii 
falling  victims  to  such  amazingly  over-wrought  terror  as, 
it  would  appear,  paralyzes  the  educated  traveller.  In 
ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  hundred  he  has  to  thank  nothing 
else  but  his  own  quite  uncalled-for  nervousness  for  the 
fix  he  has  got  into.  The  trapper  or  the  Indian,  when 
he  loses  his  way  in  a  fog  or  snowstorm,  or  at  night,  says, 
Indian  no  lost;  Indian  here ;  wigwam  lost :  and  speedily  acts 
upon  this  supposition  by  doing  what  is  most  sensible, 
namely,  to  await  daylight,  or  the  lifting  of  the  fog,  or 
the  cessation  of  the  storm,  on  or  near  the  spot  where  he 
first  became  aware  of  the  disagreeable  fact  that  he  has 
missed  his  way. 

Some  people  seem  to  have  no  eye  at  all  for  natural 
landmarks  They  see  a  peak  one  day,  and  the  next  they 
fail  to  recognize  it.  They  ford  rivers,  and  presently 
forget — if  they  ever  did  know — which  way  the  water 
flowed.  The  sun  and  the  stars  are  to  them  meaningless 
luminaries ;  and  they  are  weeks  or  months  in  the  wilder- 
ness before  they  realize  the  signification  of  a  watershed, 
or  have  noticed  the  direction  from  which  the  breeze 
blows.  To  such  persons,  of  course,  the  plight  appears 
decidedly  more  perplexing  than  to  others  who  have  paid  a 
little  attention  to  these  rudimentary  principles  of  wood- 
craft. But  why  even  they  should  allow  themselves  to 
become  a  prey  to  fanciful  deadly  perils,  is  somewhat 
puzzling. 


204  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

Nothing  is  so  exhausting  as  fright  or  terror ;  anl  ii 
the  traveller  bears  in  mind  never  to  be  without  the  mean-j 
of  making  a  fire,  there  is  really  nothing  very  terrifying  in 
stopping  out  a  night.  It  will  probably  be  cold  work, 
and  as  likely  as  not,  hungry  work ;  but  that,  under  all 
but  the  most  exceptional  cases,  in  the  depth  of  winter, 
will  be  the  worst  that  can  befall  him. 

On  several  occasions  localities  were  pointed  out  to  mo 
where  sportsmen  had  got  lost ;  and  more  unlikely  places 
for  a  man  to  manage  this  I  could  not  well  fancy.  Tho 
frontiersman  is  a  sharp  critic  of  such  weaknesses ;  and  1 
have  heard  some  unkind  remarks  made  by  them  on  this 
soorti 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

CAMPS   IN   THE   TETON   BASIN. 

A  mythical  Trapper's  Paradise— Its  locality — The  Great  Teton  Pealt-^ 
Its  sublimity — The  sportsman  in  the  eyes  of  the  frontiersman- 
Fishing  notes,  by  a  non-fisherman — Pleasant  fishing — An  unex- 
pected meeting — Wintering  in  the  Basin — Partial  ascent  of  the 
Teton — A  night  ramble — Scenery,  its  peculiarities. 

There  are  few  spots  in  the  "Western  mountain  lands 
around  wliich  there  hangs  so  much  frontier  romance  as 
about  "  Jackson's  Hole,"  the  trapper  name  for  the  Teton 
Basin.  Few  camp-fires  in  the  wilds  beyond  the  Missouri 
fail  to  thaw  out  of  "  oldest  men  *'  tales  of  that  famous 
locality.  When  an  unprecedented  trapping  feat  has  to  be 
located,  that  mountain-girt  Eden  will  be  chosen  by  the 
narrator.  If  an  impossible  Indian  figlit  has  to  be  fathered 
on  to  some  quiet  and  out-of-the-way  nook,  the  *'  bad  man  " 
who  tells  you  the  story  will  make  ''  Jackson's  Hole  "  the 
bloody  battlefield.  If  a  great  mining  yarn  goes  the  round, 
dealing  with  creeks  paved  with  nuggets  of  gold,  but  to 
which  somehow  the  first  discoverer  never  could  retrace  his 
steps,  the  prospector  invariably  chooses  for  its  site  the 
Teton  Basin.  When  I  first  became  acquainted  with  the 
Land  of  the  West,  I  had  Teton  Basin  on  the  brain. 
Everybody  seemed  to  have  been  there,  or  was  going  to 


2o6  Camps  in  ik^  Rockies, 

visit  it.  And  from  the  stories  I  heard,  I  soon  carae  to 
the  conclusion  that  it  was,  undoubtedly,  an  insuflSciently- 
wonderful  c.imp- fireside  tale  about  that  region  that 
called  down  upon  the  narrator,  a  beginner  in  "Western 
Troubadouring,  the  deserved  and  well-known  reprimand, 
"  Young  man,  young  man,  ain't  you  ashamed  to  talk  so, 
when  there  are  older  liars  on  the  ground  P  " 

All  kinds  of  great  hunters  made  me  their  confidant,  and 
poured  into  my  ears  their  personal  experiences — how  they 
had  gone  to  the  Teton  Basin  "dead  broke,"  and  returned 
with  gold  dust  leaking  out  of  their  torn  boots,  and  thirty 
horses  doing  their  level  best  to  pack  all  the  beaver  pelts 
along.  ''  Jackson's  Hole  '*  soon  became,  in  my  eyes,  a  sort 
of  beatified  *'home  for  destitute  trappers."  And  to  judge 
by  the  numbers  who  had  been  there,  the  place  was  appa- 
rently of  good  size  to  hold  all  the  old  mountaineers 
domiciled  in  it — and  what  was  strangest,  apparently  for  no 
other  earthly  reason  than  for  the  pleasure  of  living  in  the 
Teton  Basin ;  for  of  course,  with  legions  of  the  best  fur- 
hunters  after  them,  the  poor  beavers  had  vanished  to 
haunts  less  favoured  by  those  old,  old — nay,  the  oldest 
trapiers  of  the  country,  men  who  trapped  the  Cache  la 
Foudre  when  Fremont  was  yet  sucking  his  thumbs  in  the 
idleness  of  babyhood. 

I  well  remember  how  puzzled  I  was  on  my  first  accidental 
meeting  with  Port — whom,  as  he  was  pointed  out  tome  as 
one  of  the  best  trappers  of  the  countr}^,  I  was  rather 
surprised  to  meet  500  miles  away  from  that  spot — my  stock 
question  to  all  old  trappers,  '•  When  are  you  going  back  to 
the  Teton  Basin?  "  received  the  startling  answer,  "  Never 
been  there  ;  and  I  kinder  reckon  few  white  men  have."  At 
the  time  I  thought  that  was  the  very  first  "  up-and-down  " 


Camps  in  the  Teton  Basin.  207 

lie  told  me  since  crossing  the  Missouri ;  but  somehow,  as 
time  went  by,  and  the  brilliant  Paris  green  that  coated  my 
composition  came  off  in  big  patches,  I  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  it  was  about  the  very  first  truth  I  had  stumbled  on. 

In  the  subsequent  two  expeditions  with  him  through 
other  portions  of  the  Bocky  Mountains,  bringing  me  into 
camp-fireside  contact  with  many  would-be  *^  old  men  of 
the  mountains,"  my  notebook  gradually  became  filled  with 
reliable  information  on  different  routes  to  that  sequestered 
spot — and  I  certainly  never  knew  a  place  have  so  many 
"  best  ways  to  get  there/^  Singular  to  say,  when,  on  our 
third  and  present  outing,  we  made  it  our  goalj  the  nearer 
we  got  to  the  spot  the  fewer  grew  the  travellers  who  had 
spent  either  their  youth,  or  their  prime,  or  their  old  age 
in  that  trapper's  paradise  ;  and  when  finally,  in  July,  1880, 
we  passed  Fort  Washakie,  the  nearest  post  and  the  nearest 
human  habitation  to  it ;  we  found  that  there  was  actually 
not  a  single  person  there  wlio  knew  the  way  to  it,  or  who 
had  ever  been  there.'  An  absent  scout  was  said  to  have 
actually  once  visited  it ;  but  he  was  away,  and  for  the  rest 
of  the  180  or  200  miles  across  the  Great  Divide  we  were 
our  own  Teton  Basin  discoverers. 

A  few  words  will  suffice  to  indicate  its  locality.  South- 
West  of  the  Yellowstone  Park,  it  lies  on  the  boundar}^  of 
Wyoming  and  Idaho,  between  the  Teton  Range  and  the 
Grosventre  Mountains.'  Up  to  1881  it  was  very  difficult 
of  access,  being  enclosed  on  all  sides  by  mountain  ranges 
that  were  very  little  known,  and  could  only  be  crossed  at 
certain  points,  over  which  led  Indian  trails  known  only 
to  a  very  few  white  men.  But  the  wonderful  tales  of  the 
Ijfiite  exceptional  natural  beauty  of  the  spot,  circulated  by 
'  A  positive  lact.  '  See  Appendix. 


2o8  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

the  few  who  had  visited  it  on  their  lonesome  fur-hunting 
expeditions,  had  taken  root,  and  spread  in  the  remarkable 
manner  already  indicated.  Up  to  1879  only  large,  well- 
armed  expeditions  (the  one  Government  Exploration  Party, 
under  the  renowned  Professor  Hayden,  had  touched  it  in 
1872),  or  trappers  who,  by  taking  Indian  wive?,  had 
become  Indian ized,  could  venture  to  enter  that  country,  for 
the  two  Indian  tribes — the  Nez  Perces  and  Bannacks — 
whose  hunting-grounds  it  was,  were  then  very  hostile.  The 
Indian  war  of  1878  cleared  them  out,  and  when  we  visited 
the  basin  in  1880,  we  had  the  whole  country  to  our- 
selves. With  two  exceptions,  I  saw  not  a  single  white 
man  from  the  end  of  July  to  the  end  of  November,  and 
for  three  months  of  that  period  saw  also  no  Indians.  To- 
day access  is  made  easier,  for  the  narrow-gauge  Montana 
line,  branching  off  Northward  at  Ogden,  passes  Fort  Hall, 
from  whence  Jackson*s  Hole  can  be  reached  from  the 
West  in  seven  or  eight  days*  travel  over  Indian  trails. 

We  reached  the  confines  of  the  Basin  on  a  beautiful 
September  morning.  Debouching  very  suddenly  from  a 
deep  canyon,  to  a  high  knoll  overlooking  the  whole  of  it, 
we  happened  to  strike  the  most  favourable  point  from 
whence  to  view  the  mountain-girt  paradise  spread  out 
before  us. 

At  our  feet  lay  the  perfectly  level  expanse,  about  eight 
or  ten  miles  broad,  and  five-and-twenty  in  length. 
Traversing  the  basin  lengthwise,  we  saw  the  curves  of  the 
Snake  River — its  waters  of  a  beautiful  beryl  green,  and 
apparently  as  we  viewed  it,  from  a  distance  of  five  or  six 
miles,  of  glassy  smoothness — winding  its  way  through 
groves  of  stately  old  cotton  wood- trees.  A  month  or  two 
before,  the  Snake  had  inundated  the  whole  Basin,  and  the 


Camps  in  the  Teton  Basin,  209 

grass  that  had  sprung  up  retained  its  bright  green  tint, 
giving  the  whole  picture  the  air  of  a  splendid  trimly-kept 
old  park.  Beyond  the  river  the  eye  espied  several  little 
lakes,  nestling  in  forest-girt  seclusion  under  the  beetling 
cliffs  of  the  boldest-shaped  mountain  I  am  acquainted 
with,  i.e.  the  Grand  Teton  Peak,'  rising  in  one  great  sweep 
from  an  amazingly  serrated  chain  of  aiguille-like  crags 
sharply  outlined  against  the  heavens,  and  shutting  in  one 
entire  half  of  the  basin, — the  other  semicircular  enclosure 
being  the  mountain  range  on  which  we  stood.  It  was  the 
most  sublime  scenery  I  have  ever  seen. 

Many  of  the  Colorado  mountains  are  called  the 
Matterhorns  of  America — with  about  as  much  justification 
as  the  more  diminutive  Ben  Nevis,  or  Snowdon,  merits 
that  name.  With  the  Teton  it  is,  however,  different;  for 
it  makes,  so  far  as  I  know,  the  only  and  very  brilliant  ex- 
ception to  the  usual  dome-like  formation  of  the  Rockies. 
In  shape  it  is  very  like  the  Swiss  master-peak;  but  inas- 
much as  the  Western  rival  rises  in  one  majestic  sweep  of 
7000  feet  from  this  natural  park,  to  an  altitude  all  but 
the  same  (13,800  feet),  I  would,  in  this  instance,  in  point 
of  sublimity  give  the  palm  to  the  New  World. 

Pursuing  the  hardly  perceptible  Indian  trail  (we  came 

*  The  Government  Exploration  party  who  visited,  in  1872,  the 
Teton  Basin,  and  of  whom  three  or  four  members  ascended  the  great 
peak,  re-christened  it  Mount  Hayden,  in  honour  of  the  well-known 
savant  and  indefatigable  leader  of  the  Territorial  Exploration  Expe- 
ditions. Though  no  peak  in  the  United  States  is  more  worthy  to 
«arry  that  distingui.shed  name,  it  seems  a  pity — considering  that  hun- 
dreds of  great  mountains  are  still  nameless — to  rob  the  master  peak 
a  its  famous  old  name,  the  exact  translation  of  its  Indian  appellation. 
The  shape  of  the  Teton  is  particularly  striking  when  approaching  it 
trom  the  East,  as  we  did. 

P 


2IO  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

along  the  Grosventre  Creek)  which  zigzagged  down  tho 
ettep  slope,  we  soon  reached  the  level  bottom  of  the  Basin, 
and  shortly  before  sundown  made,  in  one  of  the  exten- 
sive groves  on  the  banks  of  the  Snake,  what,  without 
exception  was  the  most  strikingly  beautiful  camp  of 
in}^  various  trips.  The  immediate  surroundings  were  of 
idyl-like  charm.  From  the  smooth  sward,  fresh,  and 
singularly  free  of  all  rubbish,  rose  straight  and  massive 
the  stately  cotton  woods,  their  trunks  of  a  silvery  sheen, 
while  festoons  of  creepers  connected  garland-like,  often 
at  great  altitude,  the  upper  branches  of  the  trees  that 
formed  the  grove.  Immediately  in  front  of  us  glided  the 
broad  river,  its  glassy  surface  broken  here  and  there  by  a 
minute  swirling  eddy.  Right  at  the  bank  it  was  ten  or 
twelve  feet  deep ;  and  great  salmon  trout,  each  spot 
discernible,  hovered  under  the  abrupt  rootwork  bank. 
Not  a  sound  was  audible,  not  a  sign  of  living  being  was 
visible.  The  river  was  not  broader  than  sixty  yards,  and 
trees  as  large  as  the  ones  that  surrounded  us  dotted  the 
opposite  bank.  Over  this  mass  of  brilliant  verdure  rose 
the  Titanic  Teton  ;  and  did  we  not  know  that  two  miles 
of  level  ground  intervened  between  us  and  the  base,  the 
clearness  of  the  Western  mountain  air  is  so  deceptive  that 
the  great  Peak  seemed  to  grow  right  out  of  tlie  opposite 
grove.  Bend  your  neck  as  far  as  you  would,  still  your 
gaze  seemed  incapable  of  reaching  the  needle-shaped 
summit,  and  -  similar  to  the  old  Californian  miner,  who 
when  he  first  saw  El  Capitano,  in  the  Yosemite,  said  it 
took  two  looks  to  get  squarely  to  the  top  of  the  peak, 
with  a  chalk-line  to  mark  off  on  the  cliffs  how  far  his  first 
had  got — the  real  sublimity  of  its  height  impressed  itself 
only  after  the  second  or  third  look,  notwithstanding  that 


Camps  in  the  Teton  Basin,  211 

N'ature  came  to  our  aid  by  substituting  a  narrow  belt  of 
Bnow -fields  half  way  up  the  mountain  for  the  old  Califor- 
nian's  chalk-mark. 

For  once,  as  we  all  stood  crowding  the  bank,  feasting 
our  eyes  on  the  scene,  I  wished  myself  alone,  to  do  homage 
to  what  I  then,  and  still,  consider  the  most  striking 
landscape  the  eye  of  a  painter  ever  dreamt  of,  by  half 
an  hour's  examination  more  in  keeping  with  the  won- 
derful stillness  which  cast  a  further  charm  over  it.  For 
once,  too,  two  of  the  unimpressionable  Western  characters 
round  me  gave  vent  to  appreciative  exclamations  ;  the 
third,  however,  young  Henry — a  hopelessly  matter-of-fact 
being — turned  sublimity  into  ridicule,  by  his  "  Darn  the 
mountains  !  Look  at  those  beaver  dams  yonder."  Alas  !  I 
have  given  up  all  hope  to  teach  that  young  mind  to 
admire ;  and  I  believe  that  were  he  suddenly  introduced 
into  Olympus,  the  only  feeling  that  would  move  him 
would  be  expressed  in  a  terse  "  Doggarn  it,  if  I  ain't 
forgotten  the  traps  and  the  pison." 

The  following  morning  we  crossed  the  Snake  at  one  of 
the  upper  rapids,*  where  two  of  us,  and  several  of  the 
horses,  got  sound  duckings,  and  the  dogs  and  one  colt 
were  swept  down  stream,  amid  considerable  commotion, 
for  quite  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  An  hour's  ride  across  the 
level  brought  us  to  the  banks  of  one  of  the  two  larger 
lakes  I  have  spoken  of,  and  where,  as  the  sequel  will 
show,  I  had  some  unique  fishing. 

Let  me  say  a  few  words  on  the  topic  of  old  Walton's 
gentle  art  in  the  Rockies. 

The  light  in  which  the  Express-wielding  Englishman, 

*  Deep  rivers  are  best  crossed  where  there  are  shallows  or  rapids,  if 
they  are  not  deeper  than  will  allow  fuoting  to  the  horres. 

P  2 


212  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

in  quest  of  sport  in  the  Far  West,  appears  to  the  fron- 
tiersman, the  rough-and-ready  resident  of  those  equally 
rough-and-ready  regions,  is  sufficiently  quizzical  to  esta- 
blish in  their  eyes  our  national  claim  to  something  more 
iban  oddity.  Still  more  incomprehensible  to  the  Western 
"boy"  is,  however,  the  Englishman  who  visits  those 
districts  for  fishing,  or,  to  use  names  by  which  that  art  is 
known  to  him,  for  lining,  polifig,  bu^- hooking,  and  a 
series  of  other  equally  unflattering  designations.  Most 
English  shooting  parties  visiting  the  United  States  for 
sport  take  back  with  them  trophies  of  the  chase,  more  or 
less  numerous  according  to  the  means  of  transportation 
employed  by  them  while  out  in  the  wilds.  These  heads, 
horns,  and  skins  are  at  least  something  tangible  ;  and 
though  the  question  frequently  asked  of  me,  "  How  much 
them  ar*  hides  and  headgear  be  worth  over  in  the  old 
parts,"  proved  to  me  that  it  would  be  useless  to  try  to 
dispel  the  deeply  rooted  suspicion  that  my  much-treasured 
bear  skins,  wapiti,  and  bighorn  heads  were  intended  for 
vulgar  sale  and  mart ;  they  are  nevertheless  "  something 
that  shows,"  something  that  in  another  world  and  among 
another  people  may  possibly  be  worth  a  certain,  if  limited, 
number  of  dollars. 

Much  worse  does  the  fisherman  fare  who  visits  the 
semi-civilized  home  of  those  intensely  practical  roving 
forerunners  of  civilization.  The  fisherman,  poor  fellow, 
has  nothing  more  tangible  to  take  back  to  his  home 
than  pleasant  recollections  and  an  astonishingly  big 
score,  both  about  balancing  each  other  for  utter  value- 
lessness  in  the  frontiersman's  eyes,  both  betraying,  in  his 
opinion,  about  the  same  degree  of  lunacy  in  a  mild  shape. 
No  sane  man,  argues  the  tree  but  dollar-huniing  citizen 


Camps  in  the  Teton  Basin.  213 

of  Uncle  Sam's  empire,  rich  enough  to  pay  for  the  men, 
horses,  and  stores  of  the  outfit,  could  possibly  act  so 
strangely ;  leave  his  *'  tony ''  house,  discard  the  luxuries 
of  civilization — "  turning  his  back  on  whiskey/'  is  his  own 
expressive  phrase  for  similar  conduct — put  up  with  all 
the  discomforts  and  hardships  of  camp  life,  which  to  him 
have  of  course  long  lost  all  charms ;  and  aU  this — after 
travelling  five  or  six  thousand  miles,  and  spending  enough 
money  to  start  a  silver -mine — for  what  ?  To  stand  all  day 
in  water  knee- deep  and  '*  line ''  fish ! 

So  thinks  the  Western  man  while  he  gladly  pockets  the 
guide's  fee,  or  the  hire  for  the  horses  and  mules  that  have 
carried  you  and  your  belongings  to  the  scene  of  your 
big  bags.  His  quizzical  gaze  rests  upon  your  elaborate 
fishing-tackle;  the  five-guinea  rod,  or  spy-glass  pole,  as  I 
have  heard  it  called,  is  to  him  as  wonderful  an  instrument 
as  your  parchment  book  of  flies,  the  pride  of  your  art,  is 
of  mysterious  use  and  purpose.  Landing  net,  reel,  and 
all  the  numerous  etceteras  usually  to  be  found  hovering 
about  the  person  of  Walton's  disciples,  are  not  less 
puzzling  to  him ;  and  when  finally  he  sees  you  issue  forth 
from  your  tent,  arrayed  in  all  the  brand-new  finery  of 
your  West-end  outfitter,  his  mouth  puckers  up  more  than 
usually  as  he  squirts  from  it  a  stream  of  tobacco  juice. 
He  will  not  say  much,  for  the  Western  man  is  apt  to  keep 
his  impressions  to  himself ;  but  he  will  think  all  the  more. 
JKs  fishing  has  been  done  in  a  different  style.  A  change 
of  diet  becoming  desirable,  his  ponderously  heavy  Sharp's 
rifle  or  the  keen  axe — its  shape  and  make  a  chef-cfoeuvre 
of  practicalness — is  laid  or  flung  aside,  while  the  next 
patch  of  willows  furnishes  him  with  a  rod,  not  as  long  or 
AS  straight  as  yours,  but  strong  enough  to  handle  a  five* 


214  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

pound  trout,  or  a  lazier  salmon  of  twice  that  weight.  His 
line  will  not  break — of  that  we  can  be  assured,  for  it  is  a 
very  cable  among  lines,  being  fine-cut  buckstring  (cut 
from  Indian -tanned  buckhides)  ;  while  the  hook,  fastened 
to  one  end  by  a  knot  nearly  as  big  as  a  pea,  is  of  home 
manufacture,  old  horseshoe  nails,  well  hammered,  being 
favourites  for  the  purpose.  For  bait,  the  Western  fisher- 
man is  never  at  a  loss  ;  if  a  "  bug  " — all  insects  go  by 
that  name,  grasshoppers  and  crickets  being  favourites — 
cannot  be  found,  a  piece  of  raw  meat,  the  iris  of  the  last 
deer  he  killed,  or  a  minnow  will  do.  If  the  time  of  day 
be  propitious,  the  sky  clear,  and  no  ripple  on  the  water 
(these  conditions  I  have  found  to  be  of  the  greatest 
moment),  the  native  angler  will  land  in  half  an  hour  as 
many  trout  as  he  can  conveniently  carry.  If  bugs  are 
«<carce,  he  will  cut  thin  long  slices  from  the  first  fish  he 
catches,  the  glittering  scales  being,  after  insect  bait,  the 
most  deadly  for  the  finny  tribe.  Often  have  I  watched 
such  fishing  on  lake,  river,  and  creek.  The  gigantic  hook, 
duly  ''  spiked  *'  with  an  equally  huge  green  or  black 
"  hopper '' — both  so  large  that  I  once  wagered  (and  won)  I 
could  pick  off  the  bait  with  my  rifle  at  a  distance  of  thirty 
steps— splashes  down  into  the  circling  eddy,  and  often 
before  it  has  time  to  reach  the  bottom  a  two-pounder  will 
be  testing  the  strength  of  the  buckskin  line,  which,  if  the 
'^  pole  ^*  does  not  give  way,  would  hold  a  fish  ten  times 
his  weight. 

I  am  no  fisherman ; '  in  fact  all  the  trout  I  had  ever 

•  With  very  few  exceptions,  good  trout  fishing  can  only  be  had  on 
the  Pacific  slopes  of  the  main  chain  of  the  Rocky  Mountains;  though 
I  have  frequently  heard  of  English  fishing  parties  visiting  the  different 
parks  in  Colorado,  where,  as  I  am  told  by  one  who  knows,  compara* 


Camps  in  the  Teton  Basin,  215 

caught  up  to  that  period  could  be  easily  stc  /v^ed  away  in 
the  pockets  of  my  shooting-coat ;  so  before  I  write  any 
further,  and  betray  my  ignorance  on  some  vital  point,  as  T 
assuredly  should,  I  am  desirous  of  impressing  this  fact  upon 
the  reader. 

When  leaving  Europe  I  found  that  a  light  fishing-rod 
that  had  been  knocking  about  my  gun-room,  unused  for 
years,  could  be  crammed  into  one  of  my  rifle  cases ;  and 
passing  down  Oxford  Street  on  the  day  preceding  my  de- 
parture, I  favoured  the  owner  of  one  of  the  many  fishing- 
tackle-making  emporiums  in  that  thoroughfare  with  a 
general  order  to  put  up  ten  shillings^  worth  of  line  and 
trout  fly  hooks.  This  personage,  more  astonished  I  suppose 
at  the  nature  than  pleased  by  the  meagre  extent  of  my 
patronage,  did  so  in  the  most  business-like  {i.e.  prompt) 
manner,  never  deigning  to  lose  a  further  word  upon  such 
a  customer. 

I  was  glad  of  it  at  the  time,  for  had  he  asked  me  any 
one  of  the  ninety-nine  questions  regarding  details — which 
I  believe  are  necessary  to  define  the  exact  nature  of  the  fly 
you  want — he  would  have  been  no  doubt  shocked  beyond 
measure  by  the  extent  of  my  ignorance.  Subsequent 
events,  however,  made  me  regret  my  carelessness  in  the 
selection  of  the  tackle  ;  for  my  very  first  day's  fishing  de- 
monstrated to  me  in  the  most  convincing  manner  that  in 
my  unskilful  hands  the  line  was  far  too  light,  the  flies  use- 
less, and  the  hjcks  themselves  hardly  strong  enough  to 
hold  a  half  pound  trout.  At  a  rough  calculation  that 
day's  fishing  cost  me  nine  shillings  and  elevenpence  worth 

tivelj  poor  sport  rewards  the  traveller.  Twenty-four  hours'  railway 
journey  further  West  would  enable  them  to  get  some  of  the  finest  trout 
fishing  that  can  be  had. 


2i6  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

of  tackle ;  for  at  tlie  termination  I  found  myself  minus 
most  of  my  hooks,  the  greater  part  of  my  line,  and  the  two 
top  pieces  (the  spare  one  being  one)  of  my  rod  snapped  in 
two ;  and  of  the  countless  fish  that  had  risen  to  my  bait, 
none  landed  but  the  very  smallest.  Fort  Washakie,  the 
last  human  habitation  we  had  passed,  was  180  or  200  miles 
east  of  us ;  and  where  to  get  a  fresh  supply  of  line  and 
hook  nearer  than  that  post,  I  knew  not. 

Game  just  then  was  very  scarce ;  the  Bigbom  were  still 
high  up  on  the  mountains,  and  Wapiti  had  not  yet  come 
into  the  Basin,  so  that  we  had  been  out  of  meat  for  one  or 
two  days  ;  and  the  long  faces  of  my  men  when,  on  my  re- 
turn to  camp  from  my  first  day's  fishing,  I  informed  them 
that  I  had  sacrificed  nearly  all  my  hooks  and  part  of  my 
rod,  put  a  hungry  aspect  on  the  matter,  our  "  grub  outfit " 
being  then  of  the  very  lightest  description.  My  pocket 
tool-box — a  V(jry  essential  commodity,  as  I  found  out,  with- 
out which  nobody  ought  to  travel  in  those  regions — had 
unfortunately  been  cached  with  some  extra  stores  and  the 
tent  a  week  or  so  before,  and  hence  we  could  not  meta- 
morphose horseshoe  nails,  of  which  we  had  some  few  with 
us,  into  fishhooks.  But  the  instinct  of  practical  self-help, 
so  strongly  developed  by  Western  travel,  came  to  the 
rescue,  and  by  the  end  of  a  couple  of  hours'  work,  aided 
by  the  bright  light  of  a  huge  camp-fire,  we  had  completed 
three  very  deadly  instruments.  One  was  a  landing  net 
made  of  the  top  of  a  young  pine-tree  bent  into  a  hoop,  with 
an  old  flour  sack  laced  to  it  with  buckstring,  half-a-dozen 
holes  being  cut  in  the  canvas  to  let  out  the  water.  This 
was  a  triumph  in  itself;  but  what  will  the  reader,  who  is 
probably  an  expert  fisherman  of  long  experience,  say  when 
he  hears  of  the  other  two  ?     I  had  just  six  hooks  left,  and 


Camps  in  the  Teton  Basin.  217 

the  broken  top  pieces  of  my  rod  (I  must  plead  ignorance 
of  the  technical  name  of  the  component  parts  of  a  rod)  fur- 
nished the  necessary  thin  thread  wire  to  make  two  hooks 
out  of  the  six,  by  fastening  three  together,  their  points 
diverging  grapnel  fashion.  The  +orn  pieces  of  line  were 
carefully  twisted  into  a  stout  hawser,  the  strength  of  which 
we  tested  by  fastening  it  to  the  collar  of  a  Newfoundland 
pup,  and  lifting  him  clear  from  the  ground. 

The  next  day  was  a  warm  balmy  September  morning— 
not  a  cloud  was  to  be  seen  in  the  sky  of  Alpine  blueness 
I  returned  to  the  same  spot  on  the  banks  of  the  lake — the 
scene  of  the  wholesale  robbery  of  hooks  on  the  preceding 
day,  and  on  my  way  thither  filled  a  small  tin  canister  with 
*'bugs"  in  the  shape  of  remarkably  lively  crickets,  of  large 
size  and  jet  black  colour,  that  could  be  found  in  thousands 
on  the  open  barrens.  In  an  hour  I  had  landed  about  forty 
pounds  of  trout,  mostly  fish  about  two  pounds  in  weight. 
All  the  larger  fish — and  I  must  have  had  at  least  three 
times  the  number  on  or  near  my  hook — broke  away;  while 
the  very  large  ones— of  which  I  saw  quite  a  number,  and 
some  of  which  must  have  scaled  six  pounds  or  seven  pounds 
—  snapped  up  the  bait  en  passant  in  the  most  dexterous 
manner. 

My  favourite  spot  for  the  sport  was,  as  I  have  said,  at 
the  outlet  of  one  of  the  lakes  (Jennie's  Lake  it  is  called  on 
the  latest  Government  Survey  map),  and  the  time  an  hour 
or  so  before  sunset,  when,  after  a  long  day  on  the  rocks 
and  in  the  dense  timber,  I  would  have  returned  to  my  old 
horse  and  got  on  my  way  back  to  camp.  Highly  fan- 
tastical, not  to  say  demented,  must  I  have  appeared  to  an 
Old  World  angler,  as,  wading  old  Boreas  into  the  water 
where  creek  and  lake  joined  till  it  reached  to  within  a  foot 


2l8  Camps  hi  the  Rockies, 

or  so  of  the  saddle,  he  would  stand  perfectly  motionless 
till  I  had  filled  the  two  capacious  Stalker's  bags  slung  one 
on  each  side  of  him  with  the  speckled  beauties.'  Sitting 
well  back  in  the  saddle,  with  both  legs  dangling  down  on 
the  same  side,  my  rifle  slung  over  my  back  — the  landing 
net  when  not  in  use  hung  on  one  of  my  steed's  ears,  the 
only  handy  place  for  it — I  plied  my  grapnel  with  never- 
failing  success.  Fish  after  fish,  with  hardly  a  quarter  of 
a  minute  between,  would  gobble  up  the  bait,  generally  still 
alive,  and  if  the  fish  was  not  of  large  dimensions,  would  be 
jerked  out  of  the  water,  and  safely  ensconced  in  the  folds 
of  the  flour  sack. 

As  I  have  said,  I  usually  began  fishing  "  an  hour  by 
8un  " — the  trapper  expression  for  an  hour  before  sunset — 
and,  with  only  one  exception,  I  succeeded  in  filling  the 
two  bags  with  twenty-five  pounds  or  so  of  fish  (while 
proper  tackle  would  have  accomplished  it  in  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  or  twenty  minutes)  before  the  long  shadows  of 
the  tall  pine-trees  growing  down  to  within  two  or  three 
feet  of  the  water's  edge  would  fall  across  the  smooth, 
glassy  surface  of  the  tranquil  mountain  tarn.  The  sun 
once  off  the  water,  the  fish  would  vanish  as  if  by  word  of 

•  Speaking  of  receptacles  to  place  fish  in,  one  can  often,  if  not  pio- 
vided  with  sufficiently  large  bags,  be  placed  in  a  dilemma  conceniiTifj 
means  of  transportation.  An  experience  in  Port's  life  gives  a  usefnl 
hint.  He  once  was  fishing  in  the  Columbia ;  and  when  it  was  time  to 
return  to  camp,  he  found  that  the  empty  flour-sacks,  wherein  to  carry 
his  fish,  had  been  lost  from  his  saddle,  and  nothing  whatever  at  hand 
to  take  their  place.  But  Port  is  a  Western  man  ;  so,  divestinj?  himself 
of  his  nether  garments,  he  tied  up  the  legs  at  the  bottom  and  filled 
the  whole  with  his  fish,  fastening  the  top  in  a  similar  manner ;  and 
seating  Xh^  fish-filled  unmentionables  on  his  horse,  in  front  of  him,  hf 
brought  his  take  safely  into  camp. 


Camps  in  the  Teton  Basin,  219 

command,  and  I  do  not  remember  to  have  canglit  a  single 
fish  in  that  lake  after  sundown.  Resuming  my  usual  seat 
in  the  saddle — a  signal  well  understood  by  trusty 
Boreas,  and  with  a  yelp  of  delight  from  the  young 
Newfoundland,  who,  intensely  interested  in  the  whole  pro- 
ceedings, would  sit,  all  attention,  on  the  bank  fifteen  or 
twenty  yards  oft",  restrained  only  by  my  word  from  keeping 
up  constant  communication  between  me  and  the  shore — I 
would  turn  my  horse's  head  camp  ward.  Once,  and  only 
once,  did  serious  disaster  threaten  me — it  was  when  a  more 
than  commonly  vigorous  two -pounder  snapped  the  threefold 
gut.  But  luck  stood  by  me,  and  the  second  throw  with 
my  spare  grapnel  landed  the  very  criminal,  the  hook  still 
in  his  jaws. 

Has  the  reader  ever  eaten  salmon  trout  (for  I  believe 
this  is  the  proper  name  of  the  fish  I  caught  in  the 
Teton  Basin)  fried  in  bear  fat,  with  a  bit  of  beaver^s  tail 
simmering  alongside  the  pink  mess?  If  he  has  not,  I 
venture  to  say  he  knows  not  what  makes  a  right  royal 
iish. 

Three  times  a  day  did  six  big  frying-pans  fuU  appear  on 
our  primitive  greensward  dinner-table,  and  never  did  fish 
taste  nicer,  and  never  did  four  men  and  two  dogs  eat  more 
of  them.  Hardly  credible  as  it  sounds,  thirty  pounds  a 
day  was  hardly  sufficient  to  feed  our  six  hungry  mouths ; 
and  when,  towards  the  end  of  my  short  stay  in  the  Baain, 
great  economy  in  flour  became  imperative,  forty  pounds 
vanished  in  a  similar  wonderfully  speedy  manner. 

Two  ludicrous  little  incidents  happened  to  me  in  the 
Teton  Ba^iin;  and  though  I  took,  to  use  Western  parlance, 
a  hack-seat  in  both,  I  shall  narrate  them.  The  first  one 
occurred  in  this  way :  I  had  filled  an  old  tin  to  the  brim 


22C  Camps  in  the  Rockies^ 

with  hopper-bugs,  and  was  crossing  the  outflow  of  the  lake^ 
seated,  or  rather  crouching,  on  Boreas's  back,  with  lega 
tucked  under  me  so  as  not  to  get  them  wet ;  when  right 
in  the  centre  of  the  stream,  with  the  water  up  to  the  saddle, 
my  steed  took  it  into  his  head  to  come  to  a  dead  halt.  My 
impressive  "  Git  up  I  "  was  in  vain,  and  considering  ray  ill- 
balanced  position,  and  that  my  hands  were  filled  with  the 
"pole,"  landing-net,  rifle,  and  bug-tin,  while  the  reins 
were  hanging  knotted  over  his  neck,  it  was  not  the  easiest 
thing  to  enforce  these  words  by  more  active  measures. 
Just  below  me  was  a  large  deep  pool,  and  as  Boreas  had  a 
wonderful  faculty  of  doing  the  most  unexpected  things 
when  left  to  his  own  free-will,  I  dreaded  a  dousing  in  the 
limpid  depth  at  my  side.  Tucking  my  rifle  under  my  left 
arm,  clutching  the  rest  of  my  outfit  in  the  same  hand,  and 
the  landing-net  in  my  teeth,  I  began  to  belabour  his 
plump  back  with  the  thing  most  handy,  i.e.  the  bug-tin. 
One  whack,  two  whacks,  and  with  a  click  out  flew  the 
bottom  of  the  canister,  and  for  the  next  second  it  rained 
black  bugs.  Nearly  all,  of  course,  fell  into  the  rapid- 
flowing  stream,  and  the  next  instant  were  whirling  for  a 
brief  second  over  the  surface  of  the  limpid  pool.  That 
moment,  reader,  I  saw  more  fish  than  I  had  ever  seen 
before  or  ever  will  see  again. 

The  other  little  mishap  was  quite  as  ludicrous.  I  must 
mention  that  these  bugs  are  lively  animals.  They  jump, 
dodge  about,  and  creep  out  of  your  way  with  astonishing 
rapidity,  and  the  only  manner  I  could  stalk  them  success- 
fully was  to  throw  my  limp  felt  hat  at  them  with  sufficient 
force  to  stun  without  squashing  them.  Even  this  requires 
some  quickness  and  undivided  attention.  Well,  one  or 
two  days  preceding  the  above  incident,  I  was  out  on  my 


Camps  in  the  Teton  Basin,  221 

Usual  preliminary  bug  stalk  ;  and  going  along  with  bent 
form,  now  hitting,  then  again  missing,  my  plump  game, 
my  whole  attention  being  fixed  upon  my  occupation,  I 
reached  a  clump  of  dense  service-berry  bushes.  I  had 
just  delivered  a  successful  throw,  and  was  about  to  stoop 
lo  gather  in  the  prize,  when  out  of  the  bushes,  as  if  grow- 
ing from  the  earth,  there  rose — a  grizzly.  Rearing  up  on 
his  hind  legs,  as  they  invariably  do  on  being  surprised,  he 
stood,  his  head  and  half- opened  jaws  a  foot  and  a  half  or 
two  feet  over  my  six  foot  of  humanity,  and  hardly  more 
ihan  a  yard  between  gigantic  him  and  pigmy  me.  The 
reader  wiU  believe  me  when  I  say  he  looked  the  biggest 
grizzly  I  ever  eaw,  or  want  to  see,  so  close.  It  would  be 
difficult  to  say  who  was  the  more  astonished  of  the  two, 
but  I  know  very  well  who  was  the  most  frightened.  My 
heart  seemed  all  of  a  sudden  to  be  in  two  places ;  for  had 
I  not  felt  a  big  lump  of  it  in  my  throat,  I  could  have 
sworn  it  was  leaking  out  at  a  big  rent  in  the  toes  of  my 
moccasins. 

Now  grizzly  shooting  is  a  fine  healthy  sport — I  know 
none  I  am  fonder  of ;  but  there  ought  to  be  neighbouring 
trees  to  facilitate  centralization  to  the  rear,  and  above  all 
I  must  be  handling  my  old  "  trail  stopper  " — and  that 
moment  I  was  here  on  a  treeless  barren,  en  face  with  one 
I  "  was  not  looking  for,''  or  "  had  not  lost  ;'*  and  yonder, 
100  yards  ofi",  lay  that  famous  old  rifle — Boreas  in  the 
distance  putting  some  spare  ground  between  him  and 
that  noxious  intruder.  Fortunately  the  Old  Uncle  of  the 
Rockies  had  more  than  probably  never  had  anything  to 
do  with  human  beings,  for  I  saw  vory  plainly  that  he  was 
more  puzzled  as  to  my  identity  than  I  was  regarding  his. 
His  small,  pig  eyes  were  not  very  ferocious-looking,  and 


222  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

first  one,  then  the  other,  ear  would  move ;  expressing,  as  1 
interpreted  it,  more  impatience  than  ill- feeling.  I  do  not 
exactly  remember  who  first  moved,  but  T  do  recollect  that 
on  looking  back  over  my  shoulder  I  saw  the  old  gentleman 
actually  running  away  from  me  !  On  regaining  possession 
of  my  rifle,  which  on  this  quite  exceptional  occasion  I  had 
allowed  to  get  beyond  my  reach,  as  it  interfered  with  my 
**  buggings,''  I  felt  considerably  braver,  and  spent  the  rest 
of  the  day  in  a  vain  endeavour  to  resume  our  acquaintance- 
ship on  more  satisfactory  terras.  But  the  old  gentleman 
evidently  thought  he  had  frightened  me  sufficientlyj  and 
80  kept  out  of  my  way. 

This  is  not  the  only  bear  story  I  could  tell,  but  as  none 
have  the  slightest  claim  either  to  originality  or  sensational 
adventure,  I  will  not  weary  the  reader's  patience  with  what 
has  been  told  so  often,  namely,  that  grizzlies  want  no  fooling. 

A  very  cursory  examination  of  Jackson's  Hole  ripened 
in  us  the  determination  of  wintering  in  the  basin,  notwith- 
standing that  we  were  quite  alive  to  the  fact  that  once  a 
passage  over  the  Main  Divide  was  made  impassable  by  the 
deep  snows  of  winter,'  (we  had  twice  to  cross  the  great 
backbone  at  altitudes  over  ten  and  nearly  eleven  thousand 
feet,)  escape  from  the  basin  was  impossible  for  eight  months, 
till  the  following  July  or  August,  for  the  two  great  rivers 
we  had  to  cross  are,  on  account  of  the  melting  snows, 
quite  impassable  during  the  spring.  It  was  very  fortunate 
that  ultimately  we  were  prevented  executing  this  plan.     I 

'  There  is  a  considerably  lower  pass,  if  you  approach  from  the 
north.  As  we  were  not  at  all  acquainted  with  these  densely  timbered 
districts,  it  would  ha  'e  been  most  unwise  for  us  to  risk  getting  lost, 
with  the  snowstorms  of  winter  threatening  as.  Very  different  are 
they  to  those  v>f  autumn. 


Camps  in  tJie  Teton  Basin,  223 

subsequently  heard,  too,  from  a  trapper — the  only  human 
being  who,  so  far  as  I  could  learn,  had  ever  wintered  in  it — 
that  owing  to  the  sheltered  position,  enclosed  on  all  sides 
by  high  mountains,  and  the  altitude  of  the  Basin  itself 
(nearly  TOGO  feet),  the  snow  remains  lying,  and  is 
not  blown  off,  as  on  the  equally  elevated  plains,  by  the 
high  winds.  He  told  me — and  I  have  every  reason  to 
believe  him,  for  we  found  sufficient  evidences  that  snow 
lies  there  very  deep — that  for  three  months  the  roof  of  his 
log  cabin  was  flush  with  the  white  pall,  and  that  he  fed 
his  three  pack  animals  with  elk  meat,  and  bark  of  the 
cotton  wood-trees  boiled  to  a  pulp.* 

We  stayed  for  ten  days  in  the  Basin,  and  probably  would 
have  remained  another  fortnight  had  not  a  great  forest 
fire,  raging  in  the  timbered  regions  north  of  us,  the 
smoke  of  which  we  had  seen  for  a  week,  threatened  to 
invade  the  Basin,  obliged  us  to  leave  it—  with  the  intention, 
however,  of  returning  a  month  or  six  weeks  later.  As  it 
turned  out  this  was  not  to  be;  and  our  winter  palace,  the  site 
of  which  was  duly  selected,  and  the  way  to  it  blazed  by 
me  on  the  trees  of  the  forest  that  shut  it  in,  is  yet  to  be 
built.  Most  annoying  was  one  of  the  consequences 
entailed  by  the  fire,  namely,  that  I  was  prevented  ascend- 
ing quite  to  the  summit  of  the  great  Peak.  On  one  of  my 
expeditions  after  the  mythical  mountain  goats — which  I 
can  assure  sportsmen  are  not  to  be  found  on  the  Teton 
Range,  though  on  a  chain  about  120  miles  north   of  it 

'  Dutch  George — the  name  of  this  old  pelt-hunter — was,  as  he  always 
is,  quite  alone  ;  and  when  finally  the  snow  on  the  mountains  melted, 
the  creeks  and  rivers  were  so  hi<^h  that  he  was  imprisoned  in  his 
mountain-girt  basin  till  the  end  of  July.  He  had  left  the  last  settle- 
ment  in  the  preceding  September,  and  had  not  seen  a  single  humai 
being,  not  even  an  Indian,  for  more  than  ten  months. 


224  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

they  have  been  killed — I  got  within  1000  or  1100  feel 
of  the  top;  but  the  distance  to  the  summit  from  our 
camp  was  too  great  to  go  and  return  in  one  day,  and  as  no 
hoises  could  be  got  further  up  than  our  carcp,  I  decided 
to  let  the  men  help  me  to  convey  the  necessary  food,  robos, 
&c.,  wherewith  to  pass  a  night  or  two  close  up  to  the 
summit.  The  men  just  then  were  very  busy,  and  I 
unfortunately  delayed  the  expedition  from  day  to  day, 
till  the  fire,  running  before  a  north-westerly  breeze,  and 
approaching  us  very  rapidly,  though  yet  several  miles  off, 
obliged  us  to  leave  the  Basin  by  the  way  we  had  reached 
it.  From  the  point  which  I  reached  on  the  main  Peak,  and 
from  the  top  of  a  minor  aiguille  which  I  ascended,  I  could 
see  what  remained  of  the  main  ascent.  Indeed  had  it  not 
been  so  lute  that  day,  or  had  I  been  provided  with  some 
covering  for  the  night,  I  would  have  proceeded  there  and 
then.  And  very  sorry  I  am  I  did  not,  even  without 
covering;  the  night  I  would  have  had  to  pass  on  the 
rocks  would  not  have  been  the  first  in  such  a  position. 
The  remaining  portion,  as  I  had  every  chance  to  observe, 
was  fairly  easy  for  anybody  trained  to  Alpine,  and 
especially  reck  work.  Many  a  second  class  peak  in  the 
Doloniites,  though  of  lesser  altitude,  presents  much  graver 
obstacles  than  those  that  I  saw  on  the  uppeimost  portion 
of  the  Teton — the  very  formation  of  rock  speaking  for  an 
easy  ascent,  while  the  snow  was  nowhere  of  exceptional 
steepness,  and  withal  in  perfect  condition.  In  this 
respect  I  was  rather  disappointed,  for  the  very  bold 
outline  of  the  whole  mountain  led  me  to  expect  a  first 
class  climb,'  though  in  point  of  distance  the  clearness  ol 
the  air  led  me  to  underestimate  it. 
•  See  Appendix. 


Camps  in  the  Teton  Basin,  225 

One  of  the  chief  diflaculties  in  exploring  the  Teton 
Range,  are  the  immensely  deep  canyons  that  cut  up  the 
chain  in  detached  blocks.  The  water  in  many  cases  has 
worn  them  down  to  the  level  of  the  basin,  and  they  are 
often  so  narrow  that  you  come  upon  them  with  startling 
abruptness,  and  look  down  yawning  gorges  two  and  three 
thousand  feet  deep,  and  at  the  top  only  half  that  width. 
1'hey  are  undoubtedly  finer  than  anything  we  have  in  the 
Alps. 

While  in  the  Teton  Basin  we  had  a  full  moon,  and  if 
the  reader  cares  to  entrust  himself  to  such  a  moonstruck 
individual,  I  shall  ask  him  to  accompany  me  on  a  quiet, 
after  supper  stroll  in  the  beauteous  calm  of  night.  Of  the 
many  nocturnal  rambles  I  have  enjoyed  in  the  Rockies, 
the  one  in  question  stands  out  in  pleasant  relief,  for  the 
surroundings  were  exceptionally  picturesque. 

Our  camp,  pitched  on  a  great  spur  of  the  Teton  Range, 
two  or  three  thousand  feet  over  the  basin,  commands  an 
expansive  view,  and  even  the  bright  light  of  a  huge  post- 
prandial camp-tire  can  hardly  outvie  the  brightness  of 
night.  About  us  there  are  half  a  dozen  veteran  spruce, 
BO  gnarled  and  weather-beaten  as  to  resemble  that  grand 
tree  of  the  Tyrol,  the  arve,  its  branches  festooned  with 
wavy  tresses  of  the  grizzly  "  beard  of  the  Alps."  Supper, 
the  pleasantest  meal  of  the  day,  is  over.  The  usual  camp- 
fire  conversation,  dealing  with  recent  events  in  our  primi- 
tive travel,  and  mainly  centring  on  sporting  subjects,  of 
late  represented  by  my  sorely  disillusioned  hopes  of  find- 
ing moose  or  mountain  goats  on  the  Teton  Range — for  the 
mountains  were  pictured  to  us  by  persons  to  whom  even 
Port  gave  credence  as  harbouring  great  numbers  of  both 
species— has  duly  seasoned  the  meal. 

Q 


226  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

We  have  lingered  longer  than  commonly  over  it  and 
as  usual  Henry  has  neglected  to  put  the  camp-kettle  with 
the  dish-washing  water  on  the  fire,  so  that  when  finally 
it  is  remembered,  and  the  much -travelled  pot  is  placed 
near  the  blaze,  the  circumstance  is  seized  as  a  welcome 
excuse  to  lengthen  that  luxurious  after-dinner  cZo/ce/ar 
nientey  while  another  outrageously  Western  story,  another 
hearty  laugh,  enliven  our  comfortable  repose.  A  glance 
at  the  *'  dipper,"  for  some  months  our  only  watch,  for  the 
two  with  which  the  outfit  started  have  long  been  invalided, 
warns  me  that  it  is  time  to  set  out,  for  the  constellation 
slants  to  nine  o'clock,  and  there  is  half  an  hour's  walk  to 
the  sight  of  my,  or  rather  our,  stalk.  I  say  "  stalk,"  for 
such  a  moonstruck  ramble  as  we  intend  to  take  would 
seem  the  height  of  ridiculous  sentimentality  to  the  men, 
whose  natures — good  and  fine  fellows  as  they  are — are 
of  the  genuine  frontier  stamp,  i.e.  up  and  down  prac- 
tical and  unimpressionable.  To  save  appearances,  it  is 
therefore  advisable  to  let  on  such  occasions  a  stalk  serve  as 
an  excuse  for  prolonged  absence  at  strange  hours. 

The  rifle  is  taken  as  a  matter  of  habit,  for  here  you 
never  let,  or  ought  to  let,  it  get  beyond  your  arm's  reach. 
You  sleep  with  it  under  your  saddle  pillow ;  when  you 
fish,  it  is  slung  over  your  back;  and  in  the  same  way  that 
in  many  of  the  missionary  churches  in  frontier-country 
the  men  stroll  into  church  their  rifle  in  their  hand,  you 
would,  so  accustomed  do  you  get  to  handling  your  shooting- 
irons,  very  likely  in  a  similar  case  do  precisely  the  same, 
or  only  discover  what  you  are  about  to  do,  as  you  are 
passing  the  doorstep.  Not  that  I  think  there  would  be 
any  special  harm  about  it — certainly  no  more  than  there  ia 
in  frantically  gripping  a  tightly-rolled  umbrella  in  the 


Camps  in  the  Teton  Basin.  227 

bellicose  "  Who  are  you  ?  "  sort  of  fashion  which  distin- 
guishes many  a  brave  son  of  Albion,  as  with  squared 
shoulders  he  strides  into  some  peaceful  Midlandshire  church 
at  home. 

So,  with  the  old  *'  trail  stopper  "  over  our  shoulder,  we 
stroll  forth.  A  rise  in  ^he  ground  presently  shuts  out  all 
view  of  camp,  but  100  yards  further  on  we  again  catch 
sight  of  the  bright  pile,  and  the  dark  shadowy  forms 
hovering  about  it.  To  the  uninitiated  they  would  appear 
to  be  engaged  in  some  mysterious  heathen  rite,  for  while 
one  is  kneeling  on  the  ground  with  his  face  to  the  fire,  his 
hands  pressed  to  his  breast,  moving  to  and  fro  in  silent  in- 
cantation ;  another  is  lying  on  his  back,  with  one  leg  held 
up  high  in  the  air ;  and  the  third  is  cutting  mad  capers 
in  front  of  the  blaze.  We  know  better  ;  there  is  nothing 
at  all  mystical  about  it.  The  first  is  drying  a  tin  camp- 
plate  he  has  just  washed,  by  pressing  it  against  his  bo  ly 
and  rubbing  it  with  the  cloth,  much  as  had  he  a  mild 
pain  below  his  belt ;  the  second  is  testing  the  strength  of 
his  evening's  handiwork,  a  new  bridle,  plaited  of  long 
strips  of  elkskin;  while  the  third  has  very  probably  burnt 
his  fingers  when  reaching  for  the  camp-kettle  standing 
near  the  fire. 

We  follow  the  slope,  dotted  with  great  boulders,  lead- 
ing us  to  a  lower  level,  and  presently  reach  a  buttress  of 
rock,  from  which  en  passant  we  see  the  Teton  Basin 
stretched  out  at  our  feet — one  or  two  little  lakelets,  and 
the  silvery  coils  of  the  great  river  traversing  the  valley, 
reflecting  the  rays  of  the  moon.  We  see  the  whole  vast 
slope  of  the  Teton  chain  on  which  we  are  ;  for  the  spur  juts 
far  out,  enabling  us  to  view  not  only  the  mountains 
opposite,   but   also  those  that   overshadow  us.     We   see 

Q  2 


228  Camps  in  tlie  Rockies, 

where  great  profound  canyons  cut  down  in  the  massive 
r;inge,  and  form  gorge-like  fissures  of  extraordinary 
abruptness  and  depth. 

Yonder  dark  streak,  a  few  hundred  feet  over  our  heads, 
is  Timberline.  In  gentle  curves  it  follows  the  spurs  and 
the  smaller  ravines  that  scar  and  fissure  the  face  of  the 
great  chain.  Beyond  the  plainly-marked  band,  much  of 
the  rock  is  mantled  by  a  pall  of  glistening  white,  from 
which,  in  one  great  glorious  sweep,  rises  a  huge  black 
tooth,  boldly  outlined  against  the  grey  blue  of  the  noc- 
turnal heavens.  It  is,  as  I  need  hardly  say,  the  Grand 
Teton. 

The  outline  of  the  landscape  is  of  entirely  Alpine 
character.  Only  in  details  does  it  difier.  In  daytime  the 
searching  glare  of  a  brilliant  sun,  cloudless  skies,  and  a 
crystal  atmosphere,  give  it  a  tinge  of  crude  disharmony. 
Peaks  do  not  float  in  the  air,  for,  so  to  speak,  there  is  no 
air  that  we  can  see  or  feel.  The  absence  of  moisture  in  the 
atmosphere,  while  it  affords  vision  far  greater  play  than 
in  other  mountainous  landscape,  is  practically  achromatic. 
The  bold  buttresses  and  pinnacles,  their  snow,  their 
shadowy  ravines,  their  gloomy  canyons,  are  displayed 
^\  ith  tantalizing  precision  and  uncompromising  hardness. 
Thore  is  no  tender  play  of  colour,  no  harmonious  perspec- 
tive blending  the  near  and  the  far.  There  are  no  great 
banks  of  airy  silver-streaked  biQows  to  give  depth  to  the 
picture,  and  to  cast  fairy  shadows  upon  the  mountain 
slopes;  while  the  wondrous  play  of  shifting  light  and 
shade  caused  by  these  fugitive  exhalations — effects  dear  to 
the  lover  of  European  Alpine  scenery — is  sadly  wanting. 
By  moonlight  these  features  of  landscape  beauty  are  no 
longer  lacking.    In  autumn,  when  the  days  are  warm  and 


Camps  in  the  Tefoft  Basin.  229 

the  nights  very  cold,  filmy  vapour  not  unfrequently  rises 
after  dark.  The  summits  of  the  mountains  rear  their 
glittering  heads  from  gauzy  clouds  of  it,  while  the  subdued 
and  silvery  light  of  the  brilliant  moon  is  chary  of  invading 
the  gorges  and  ravines.  There  is  light,  there  is  shade, 
there  is  tender  perspective.  The  stark  rocks  and  austerely 
colourless  backgrounds  are  lost  in  mysterious  half-dis- 
tances, and  an  air  of  tranquil,  romantic  beauty  is  cast  over 
scenery,  which  at  other  times  chills  you  by  its  raw 
vastness. 

In  viewing  spacious  panoramic  landscape  in  America, 
one  generally  finds  that  the  eye  rarely  encounters  specific 
points  about  it  that  leave  a  lasting  impression.  When 
on  some  future  occasion  one  endeavours  to  reconstruct 
the  picture,  it  is  far  more  puzzling  than  had  it  been 
European  Alpine  scenery.  The  picturesque  details  about 
the  latter,  far  more  numerous  and  far  more  varied,  can 
somehow,  much  more  easily  be  remembered. 

We  proceed  on  our  stroll.  Not  the  whole  great  mountain 
side  is  clothed  in  its  primeval  garb.  In  an  hour's  stroll  we 
notice  at  least  five  or  six  more  or  less  extensive  expanses  of 
timber,  every  one  of  difierent  age.  Fire,  caused  by  light- 
ning, and  windfalls,  avalanches,  and  hurricanes  have  all 
been  at  work,  and  all  have  left  their  distinctive  mark.  We 
pass  grassy  slopes,  dotted  here  and  there  with  very  old 
trees,  gnarled  and  weatherbeaten,  and  not  a  few  of  crippled 
shape,  which  in  days  long  past  were  spared  by  the  snow 
avalanche  that  stai  ted  from  the  heights  above  and  swept 
away  their  brethren,  leaving  on  its  course  Cyclopean 
boulders  strewn  about  on  the  glade,  and  now  as  deeply 
imbedded  in  the  soil  as  had  they  always  been  there.  Our 
walk  has  brought  us  to  the  foot  of  walls  of  rock  of  vast 


230  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

height,  for  here  the  main  chain  falls  off  in  one  great 
precipice.  Skirting  along  their  base  through  occasional 
groves  of  spruce  pines,  we  presently  reach  the  mouth  of 
one  of  the  canyons.  Striking  through  the  mountains  at 
a  right  angle,  it  has  cut  the  chain  very  nearly  in  two,  and 
its  perpendicular  sides  are  quite  2000  feet  in  height.  A 
small  stream,  ludicrously  insignificant  in  comparison  with 
the  great  gorge  its  waters  have  made  for  themselves,  issues 
from  the  buttressed  gateway.  A  colony  of  beaver,  who 
generations  ago  made  this  spot  their  home,  have,  by 
building  dams  across  the  stream  a  few  hundred  yards 
lower  down,  turned  a  couple  of  acres  of  ground  right  at 
the  mouth  of  the  gorge  into  a  beaver-meadow — a  perfectly 
level  expanse  of  velvety  turf,  as  smooth  and  silken,  and  as 
brilliaiitly  green,  as  some  favoured  lawn  at  home.  We 
are  standing  a  yard  or  two  from  the  open  space,  in  the 
deep  shadow  of  some  pines  which  encircle  it  on  all  sides 
save  those  where  the  abruptly-rising  cliffs  bound  it.  The 
glade-like  beaver-mea'^lovv  is  flooded  b}^  the  broad  mellow 
moonbeams  that  stream  through  the  gigantic  portals  of 
the  gorge  as  though  it  were  an  arched  window  in  some 
ruined  old  abbey.  On  the  glade  move  about  a  small 
band  of  Wapiti,  the  stags  whistling  their  weird  -^olian 
music,  the  hinds  and  their  more  than  half-grown  progeny 
feasting  on  the  juicy  ''aftermath"  that  invariably  grows 
on  the  rich  alluvial  soil  of  these  beaver-meadows,  grasses 
that  in  hue  and  texture  are  very  unlike  the  rank  herbage 
commonly  to  be  found  in  elevated  mountain  regions. 
We  stretch  ourselves  under  the  sweeping  boughs  of  a  great 
pine,  and  from  there  watch  the  family  life,  the  occasional 
angry  thrusts  delivered  by  indignant  master-stags  in 
chastisement  of  some  impudent  youngster  who  has  dared 


Camps  i7i  the  Teton  Basin,  231 

to  approacli  his  hinds.  Stags  ramble  off  into  the  forest, 
and  stags  come — now  approaching  within  ten  yards  of  our 
hiding-place,  then  gradually  fading  away  into  luminous 
"Waldesduft,'*  the  poetic  German  name  for  the  shrouding 
vapours  of  the  forest.  Not  thirty  yards  from  us  there  lie 
close  together,  two  big  antlers,  shed  probably  last  season, 
but  already  blanched  to  chalk-like  whiteness.  One  of  the 
stags,  wandering  idly  over  the  glade,  presently  comes  up 
to  them,  and  the  lordly  animal,  for  some  reason  or  other 
displeased  by  these  relics  of  his  race,  lowers  his  head,  and 
catching  up  on  his  brow-tines  one  of  the  branching  horns, 
weighing  probably  twenty  pounds,  losses  it  like  a  feather, 
sending  it  crashing  into  the  pine  covert  twenty  yards  off.^ 
The  second  horn  he  does  not  touch  ;  he  has  shown  what  he 
can  do.  Except  the  quaint  call  of  him  and  his  fellows — 
sounds  for  which  there  is  little  cause,  for  the  fair  ones 
they  are  so  jealously  guarding  evince  no  intention  of 
evading  their  masters'  endearments — save  this,  absolute 
stillness  hushes  the  scene.  The  moon  has  topped  the 
great  chain,  and  no  other  light  but  that  streaming  through 
the  vast  rock- bound  gateway  of  the  gorge  reaches  the 
spot.  Never  did  forest  scene  breath  more  entrancing 
peacefulness.  As  we  look  up  at  the  great  orb,  it  seems  as 
if  she  had  shone  from  that  spot  for  millions  of  years,  and 
would  continue  for  time  evermore  to  touch  up  with  silvery 
sheen  the  little  glade  and  the  group  of  stately  animals 
dispersed  over  it.  But,  alas !  what  a  rude  awakenitig 
awaits  that  family  of  Wapiti !  Where,  less  than  two  years 
ago,  the  nearest  human  habitation  was  ten  or  eleven  days* 
ride  off — longer  than  it  takes  the  traveller  from  the  Old 

*  It  is  the  only  time  I  have  seen  Wapiti  do  thig. 


232  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

World  to  reach  the  New  one — there  will  be,  or  perhaps  there 
is  already,  a  mining  town,  and  Texas  or  Oregon  steers  wil] 
roam  where,  from  time  eternal,  was  the  home  of  our  antlered 
friends  and  of  our  favourites  the  indefatigable  constructors 
of  dams  and  beaver-meadows,  while  the  ubiquitous  cow- 
puncher  or  stock-raiser,  who  is  turning  the  vast  West 
into  one  huge  cattle-yard,  to  the  utter  extermination  of 
game,  will  replace  the  lonesome  old  "  stags,''  who  with 
their  Indian  squaws  passed  many  a  profitable  trapping 
season  in  this  beautiful  mountain  retreat. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   BEAVER   AND   HIS   CAMP. 

The  bank  and  dam  beaver — Their  dwellings — The  beaver's  intellic 
gence- -Beaver  timber — Trappers  and  their  craft— Indians  in- 
different trappers — Beaver  towns,  their  aspect — Influences  of  the 
beaver  upon  the  topography  of  the  country. 

The  trappers  of  the  North- West  define  two  species  of 
beaver,  distinguished  from  each  other  not  so  much  by 
any  individual  characteristic  as  rather  by  the  nature  of 
their  dwelling-places.  They  are  the  "  bank "  and  the 
"dam'*  beaver.  The  former  live  in  excavated  caverns  or 
nests  in  the  banks  of  large  and  swift-flowing  rivers^  where 
the  current  is  too  strong,  and  the  spring  rise  too  consider- 
able, to  allow  them  to  build  dams.  The  entrance  to  their 
subterranean  dwelling-places  is  effected  by  means  of  long 
burrow  like  channels  from  three  to  eight  feet  in  length, 
starting  upwards,  so  that,  though  the  ingress  hole  be  four 
or  five  feet  under  the  surface,  the  nest  itself  is  above  water 
level,  and  perfectly  dry. 

The  "dam  beaver**  lives,  as  the  name  indicates,  in 
dams,  or  carefully  built  houses,  generally  of  a  round  and 
somewhat  conical  shape,  two  and  three  families  occupying 
frequently  different  tiers  in  one  and  the  same  house,  which, 


234  Camps  ih  if^  Rockies, 

I  understand,  is  never  the  case  witli  tlie  other  variety.  Of 
the  dozens  of  "  hank  beavers "  the  men  1  was  with  dug 
out,  they  never  found  more  than  one  "  set,''  or  family, 
occupying  the  warmly  padded  nest. 

The  houses  of  dam  beavers  are  not  difficult  to  examine, 
for  they  are  above  ground,  and  five  or  ten  minutes'  careful 
work  will  usually  suffice  to  lay  open  the  neat  inside  of  the 
"  wood  pile  "  structure.  The  number  of  inmates,  as  well 
as  the  size  of  these  houses,  varies  considerably.  Regarding 
the  former  pointy  my  personal  observation  is  numerically 
far  behind  that  of  other  travellers.  I  have  never  seen,  or 
had  actual  proof  of,  more  than  eight  beaver  living  in  the 
same  tenement — a  number  far  exceeded  by  others.  The 
greatest  number  authentically  recorded  is,  I  believe, 
instanced  by  Hearne,  in  his  narrative  of  exploration  in 
the  Hudson's  Bay  countrj^  nearly  a  century  ago,  where 
he  relates  that  the  Indians  of  his  party  killed  twelve 
old  beaver  and  twenty-five  young  and  half-grown  ones 
out  of  one  house,  and  he  adds,  it  was  found  on  examination 
that  several  others  had  escaped.  The  house  was  a  very 
large  one,  and  had  nearly  a  dozen  apartments  under  one 
roof,  which,  with  two  exceptions,  had  no  communication 
with  each  other,  except  by  water,  and  were  probably 
occupied  by  separate  families. 

Not  so  easy  is  it  to  examine  the  dwellings  of  bank 
beaver,  for  during  summer  and  autumn  the  entrance  is 
several  feet  unJer  water,  and  the  nest  itself  can  onW  be 
reached  by  digging  down  in  trapper  fashion — a  process  not 
co:iducive  to  a  closer  examination  of  the  dwelling.  In 
winter,  however,  when  even  the  swiftest  and  most 
rebellious  mountain  torrents  are  laid  in  icy  bands — at  a 
p  riod,  too,  when  the  water  level  is  generally  at  its  very 


The  Beaver  and  his  Camp.  235 

lowest — tlie  entrance  hole  is  not  infrequently  half  or 
entirely  over  the  ice ;  and  on  such  occasions,  if  the  burrow 
is  short  and  perfectly  straight,  the  explorer  is  able  to 
squeeze  himself  two  or  three  feet  up  the  passage,  till,  by 
the  light  of  his  candle  held  in  front  of  him,  a  glimpse  can 
be  caught  of  the  inside  of  the  nest.  Old  dog  beaver  seem 
to  care  far  less  for  the  comfortable  padding  of  their 
dwellings  than  do  family  beaver.  On  several  occasions 
have  I  thus  surprised  solitary  old  males  in  their  winter 
abodes,  the  frightened  tenant,  unable  to  escape,  crouching 
in  the  furthest  extremity  of  his  bare  and  cold  cavern,  and 
eyeing  me  with  his  small  and  not  particularly  expressive 
eyes. 

The  beaver  is  one  of  those  animals  whose  instinct  and 
intelligeace  have  been  most  discussed  among  naturalists. 
Cuvier,  it  is  well  known,  used  to  demonstrate  by  a  series 
of  experiments  with  a  beaver  taken  when  quite  young 
and  artificially  suckled,  that  the  admirable  industry  and 
intelligent  appreciation  of  certain  laws  of  nature  evinced 
by  the  works  of  beavers  spring  from  a  blind  mechanical 
force — pure  instinct,  unrelieved  by  the  higher  faculty. 
Cuvier  fed  his  young  prisoner  with  branches  of  willow,  of 
which  it  ate  all  the  bark,  cutting  up  the  peeled  stems  into 
pieces,  piling  them  up  in  a  corner  of  the  cage  as  building 
material.  He  then  provided  it  with  earth,  pebbles,  and 
tree  branches  ;  they  were  all  used  by  the  beaver  in  the 
manner  peculiar  to  his  species.  "  This,"  argues  Cuvier, 
"was  blind  instinct;  no  good  could  result  from  the 
trouble  which  it  gave  itself,  for  it  needed  no  house." 
BufFon's  argument,  that  solitary  though  free  beavers  do 
not  know  how  to  construct  dams,  is  refuted  by  Cuvier^s 
young  prisoner,  who  constructed  and  built  his  da; us  and 


236  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

dykes.  With  very  few  animals  is  it  apparently  so  difficult 
to  draw  the  line  between  instinct  and  intelligence,  or 
rather  between  instinctivre  intelligence  and  reflective 
intelligence,  as  in  the  beaver's  case  ?  Intelligence  is,  as 
we  know,  deliberative,  conditional,  modifiable,  and  is  the 
result  of  observation  and  preceding  experience.  The  story 
of  Mr.  Broderip's  pet  beaver  who  manifested  his  building 
instincts  by  dragging  together  warming  pans,  sweeping- 
brushes,  boots,  and  sticks,  and  piling  them  together 
crosswise,  is,  as  we  have  authentic  facts  before  us,  a 
typical  instance  of  this  difficulty. 

The  use  of  the  beaver's  tail  as  a  trowel  for  plastering 
down  their  mud  constructions  has  been  frequently  doubted, 
and  the  very  isolated  instances  in  which  I  found  the  marks 
of  the  scale-covered  tail  on  dams  or  houses  can  hardly 
prove  the  contrary.  More  frequently  have  I  found 
"  prints  **  of  the  tail  on  the  slimy,  mud-covered  slides,  for 
when  in  repose  the  tail  lies  flat  on  the  ground  When  at 
work  gnawing  down  trees,  the  beaver  seems  to  prop  himself 
on  his  tail,  though  not  to  the  extent  pictures  drawn  by 
inventive  pencils  would  pretend. 

If  you  surprise  a  beaver  in  deep  water,  he  will  commonly 
duck  under,  with  a  loud  slap  of  his  broad  tail  on  the  water. 
Indians  and  half-breeds  believe  this  to  be  a  well  understood 
sign  to  alarm  their  comrades ;  but  from  the  build  of  the 
animal,  and  the  fact  that  he  only  makes  this  noise  when 
in  deep  water,  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  it  ib  a  move- 
ment tending  to  expedite  his  disappearance. 

Another  very  popular  myth  endows  the  beaver's  tail 
with  a  further  use,  namely,  as  a  medium  for  carrying  sand 
and  mud.  Major  Campion,  in  his  "  On  the  Frontier,"  a 
work  published  a  few  years  ago,  says, — 


The  Beaver  and  his  Camp.  237 

'*  Nature  has  provided  the  beaver  with  a  natural,  flexible 
trowel — his  tail — and  he  uses  it  as  such,  making  a  mortar 
by  puddling  the  earth  of  the  banks  of  the  stream,  carrying 
it  on  his  tail  to  where  it  is  required,  and  then  with  it 
spreading  and  plastering  the  prepared  mud  just  as  a 
mason  would  apply  his  mortar  with  his  trowel.  Authority 
worthy  of  high  respect  says  this  is  not  so,  is  physically 
impossible ;  but  many  times  I  have  seen  the  unmistakable 
print  of  the  beaver's  tail  on  his  mud-mortar." 

As  far  as  my  experience  goes,  I  certainly  have  to  differ 
from  this  opinion,  for  I  have  never  seen  anything  of  the 
kind  ;  and  I  should  say  that  a  glance  at  the  beaver's  ex- 
tremely short  forelegs,  and  at  his  anatomical  construction, 
makes  it  at  once  patent  that  it  is  quite  impossible  for  him 
to  place  anything  on  his  tail,  aside  of  the  further  impossi- 
bility of  carrying  such  sand  or  mud  on  it,  were  he  indeed 
capable  of  twisting  his  body  into  the  contortions  implied 
by  the  writer.  Of  the  very  numerous  fabulous  stories  ol 
the  btdver's  activity,  this  is,  I  expect,  one  of  the  newest, 
for  I  have  not  found  it  in  any  of  the  older  natural  history 
works  so  much  given  to  shed  round  the  beaver's  devoted 
head  a  halo  of  more  than  human  intelligence. 

Even  Indian  lore,  the  history  of  untutored  and  barbarian 
aborigines,  gives  the  beaver  prominence  for  intelligence 
among  animal  creation.  Indeed,  according  to  one  source, 
this  tail  business  would  seem  to  be  actual  truth.  I  am 
alluding  to  Power's  most  interesting  but  very  little  known 
work  on  the  Indian  Aborigines  of  California.  In  it  the 
author  relates  a  myth  of  the  creation  of  man  and  woman 
by  the  animals  of  the  forest,  which  is  or  was  prevalent 
among  the  Miwok  tribe.  In  it  the  following  passage 
occurs :  "  After  the  cayote  had  spoken,  the  beaver  said  he 


238  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

never  heard  such  twaddle  and  nonsense  in  his  life.  No 
tail,  indeed  !  He  would  make  a  man  with  a  broad  flat 
tail,  so  he  could  haul  mud  and  sand  on  it." 

Incredible  as  it  sounds,  there  are  people  who  believe 
that  beaver  climb  trees — a  belief  based  on  the  fact  that 
you  frequently  find  the  marks  of  their  teeth  high  up  on 
the  trunks  or  stumps  of  trees,  which  they  have  gnawed 
down,  of  such  height  as  would  apparently  furnish  incon- 
testable proof  of  this  circumstance.  Rational  examination 
at  once  shows  us  that  such  gnawing  has  been  done  in  late 
autumn  or  early  spring,  when  deep  and  crusted  snow 
covered  the  ground,  by  the  help  of  which  beaver  could 
gnaw  trees  eight  feet  or  ten  feet  up  the  trunk.  A  similar 
instance  is  afforded  by  the  height  of  beaver  dauis. 
Naturalists  of  pas^  days  claimed  that  beaver  knew  exactly 
how  high  creeks  and  streams  inhabited  by  them  would 
run  when  the  spring  freshets  swelled  their  volume,  basing 
their  argument  upon  the  circumstance  that  beaver  dams 
were  invariably  neither  too  high  nor  too  low,  but  always  of 
just  sufjcient  altitude  to  allow  the  water  to  lap  the  topmost 
edge  of  their  dyke.  Nothing  is  easier  to  explain,  if  we 
remember  that  at  the  time  these  freshets  occur  the  beaver 
is  in  the  prime  of  his  activity,  and  the  proper  level  of  his 
dam  can  be  sustained  very  easily  by  tearing  away  or 
adding  to  its  height—  a  circumstance  borne  out  by  the 
fact  that  you  will  find  the  uppermost  portion  of  dams 
consist  of  timber  shorn  of  its  bark,  the  remains  of  the 
winter  provender  used  for  this  practical  purpose. 

Beaver  are  persecuted  by  man  with  a  persistency  from 
which  few  if  any  other  animals  have  to  suffer.  Unfortu- 
nately man's  preposterous  selfishness  comes  into  play,  and 
two-thirds  of  the  trappers  do  not  scruple  to  trap  out  a 


Tlie  Beaver  and  his  Camp.  239 

creek  or  a  lake  as  completely  as  possible.  This  is  a  very 
unwise  policy ;  for  beaver,  if  left  undisturbed,  multiply 
rapidly,  one  single  pair  repopulating  a  whole  mountain 
stream  in  a  decade.  Beaver,  moreover,  are  not  very  shy 
animals  ;  they  do  not  shun  man's  neighbourhood,  as  long 
as  his  hand  is  not  turned  against  them.  They  often  build 
in  close  vicinity  to  ranches  and  frontier  settlements.  As 
their  work  is  cliiefly  done  at  night,  they  are  not  liable  to 
be  disturbed,  and  it  is  by  no  means  unusual  to  find  fresh 
beaver  dams,  and  other  signs  of  their  presence,  where  the 
baying  of  watchdogs  and  the  shout  of  the  lusty  cowboys 
are  heard  day  by  day. 

That  well-known,  and  I  believe  perfectly  authentic, 
instance  of  Missouri  beaver  repeatedly  building  up  a 
culvert  through  a  railway  embankment,  made  to  drain  off 
the  water  from  a  pond  inhabited  by  them,  is  a  striking 
proof  of  their  sagacity  ;  for  when  the  workmen  persisted 
every  other  day  in  destro3'ing  the  dam  built  by  them 
during  two  nights  to  stop  up  the  culvert,  and  so  prevent 
their  home  pond  being  laid  dry,  they  decided,  with  human 
intelligence,  to  build  up  the  culvert  no  longer  near  the 
entrance,  where  their  work  could  so  easily  be  broken 
down,  but  to  close  the  channel  right  in  the  centre  of  the 
drain,  which  was  some  forty  feet  in  length,  well  out  of 
reach  of  the  long  poles  used  by  the  men  to  poke  down 
their  work.  Here,  then,  was  a  beaver  family  actually  at 
work  with  express  trains  thundering  over  their  heads. 

Naturalists  maintain  that  beaver  observe  no  particular 
method  in  building  their  dykes.  While  not  venturing  to 
dispute  this  authoritative  opinion,  I  would  desire  to  men- 
tion a  curious  and  instructive  instance  which  assuredly 
proves  a  certain  amount  of  method.     It  was  related  to  me 


240  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

quite  recently  by  an  Englishman,  a  well-known  civil 
engineer  in  California,  of  large  experience  in  all  mattera 
appertaining  to  the  irrigation  of  land.  A  large  English 
company  had  bought  up  a  vast  tract  of  land,  bordered  by 
the  sea,  in  one  of  the  centre  counties  of  Califi)rnia.  The 
land  was  considered  perfectly  valueless,  the  company  pro- 
posing to  make  good  grass-land  of  it  by  erecting  sea 
dykes  and  damming  a  swift  river,  so  that  fresh  water 
became  available  for  irrigation.  It  was  only  after  the 
purchase  was  concluded  that  it  was  found  the  whole  sur- 
rounding country  was  peat,  which  not  only  floated  in 
water,  but  seemed  of  far  too  little  substance  wherewith  to 
erect  dams.  Timber  and  stones  were  alike  distant,  and 
the  transportation  wholly  out  of  the  question.  At  this 
critical  juncture,  when  the  company's  purchase  capital 
appeared  irretrievably  lost,  my  informant  was  consulted. 
His  opinion  could  not  be  different  from  that  of  the  other 
engineers  employed  by  the  company,  and  the  undertaking 
was  about  to  be  givtn  up.  He  was  riding  homewards, 
following  the  course  of  the  stream,  when,  some  miles 
higher  up  its  course,  he  came  upon  some  men  engaged  in 
beaver  trapping.  Stopping  at  their  camp  for  that  nigbt, 
be  learnt  from  h"s  hosts  that  numerous  beaver  were  to  be 
found  in  the  stream,  and  questioning  them  a  little  closer, 
he  was  told  that  they  built  their  dams  of  prat.  Examining 
next  morning  some  beaver  work,  he  found  that  the  men 
had  spoken  the  truth,  and  that  dams  of  considerable 
strength,  jutting  out  into  the  swift  current,  were  con- 
structed solely  of  peat.  From  the  trappers  he  then 
learnt  what  means  these  animals  employed  to  make  this 
substance  retain  a  submerged  position.  It  was  by  gradu- 
ally  pushing  out  their  dams  into  deep   water,  building 


The  Beaver  and  his  Camp,  241 

them  much  higher  over  the  surface  of  the  water  than  they 
usually  do  with  earth  or  timber,  so  that,  while  the  weight 
of  the  unsubmerged  peat  kept  the  foundation  work  in  its 
place,  the  angle  of  the  *^  bulkhead,'*  where  it  was  swept 
by  the  current,  was  of  the  requisite  steepness.  Twelve 
hours'  examination  made  my  informant  very  confident  of 
ultimate  success.  He  began  his  work  amid  the  sneers  of 
his  incredulous  fellow-engineers,  and  by  strictly  keeping 
to  the  constructive  plan  of  the  beaver  he  succeeded,  and 
better  than  he  had  ever  hoped,  in  making  the  whole  under- 
taking such  a  great  success  that  several  companies  have 
since  been  started  with  the  same  obj  ect.  He  told  me  that  the 
chief  dam  was  130  feet  in  width,  and  the  locks  by  which 
the  reservoir  water  was  controlled,  of  sufficient  capacity  to 
float  a  small  steamer ;  and  all  were  made  of  peat  only. 

The  teeth  of  the  beaver,  at  least  the  four  incisors  or 
gnawers,  are,  as  is  well  known,  remarkable  instances  of 
the  kind  provisions  made  by  nature.  They  are  provided 
with  an  outer  coating  of  excessively  hard  orange-coloured 
enamel,  the  core  being  of  a  much  softer  substance.  The 
constant  gnawing  wears  this  latter  down  first,  leaving  the 
harder  coating  to  form  a  gouge- like  edge  of  amazing 
sharpness.  A  constant  growth  at  the  roots  keeps  up  the 
length  of  the  teeth,  a  circumstance  which  in  isolated  cases 
has  caused  death.  For  a  beaver  deprived  of  one  of  his 
incisors  (they  break  them  very  frequently  gnawing  at  the 
steel  traps  in  which  they  are  caught),  and  the  absence  of 
any  check  to  the  growth  of  the  corresponding  incisor, 
results  in  an  abnormal  growth  which  very  soon  makes  it 
impossible  for  the  animal  to  feed.  I  found  one  old  beaver 
skull  with  an  incisor  five  inches  long.  From  the  shape  of 
it,  I  should  judge  that  the  animal  could  hardly  open  its 


242  Camps  ifi  the  Rockies. 

mouth—  a  fate  whicK  befell  once  a  pet  squirrel,  obliging 
me  to  have  it  killed. 

There  are  very  numerous  traits  in  the  beaver's  activity 
that  appear  incompatible  with  the  argument  that  only 
blind  instinct  moves  the  little  workers.  To  watch  two 
beavers  at  work  gnawing  down  a  big  cotton  wood -tree, 
three  feet  and  a  half  in  circumference — each  worker 
keeping  strictly  to  his  side,  the  incision  being  made 
with  perfect,  one  might  say  mathematical  accuracy,  so  as 
to  bring  the  tree  in  its  final  plunge  to  the  very  spot  they 
want  it,  athwart  a  creek,  or,  as  an  additional  protection  to 
their  dam,  a  foot  or  two  on  the  upper  side  of  it,  where 
the  danger  from  the  swift  current  is  greatest,  is  a  sight 
which  will  probably  convince  even  the  most  unbelieving. 
An  experiment  made  on  several  different  occasions  by  me 
tells  its  own  tale. 

Coming,  in  the  course  of  my  rambles,  upon  quite  fresh 
beaver  work,  say  a  moderately  big  cottonwood-tree  five  or 
six  inches  in  diameter,  standing  on  a  slope,  and  partially 
cut  through  by  them,  I  would  put  my  shoulder  to  it,  and, 
if  possible,  break  it  down,  so  that  it  fell  up  the  slope  in  a 
direction  opposite  to  that  which  the  beaver  evidently 
intended.  Visiticg  the  spot  the  next  day,  or  two  days 
afterwards,  the  tree  was  invariably  lugged  round,  with  the 
top  downhill  or  athwart  the  little  creek,  the  foundation 
work  probably  of  a  new  dam. 

Many  a  huge  camp  fire  have  we  kept  up  day  and  night 
with  old  "beaver  timber" — logs  cut  in  lengths  from 
twelve  inches  to  twenty  inches,  and  generally  from  six 
inches  to  fifteen  inches  in  diameter.  This  beaver  timber 
at  first  puzzled  me  a  good  deal  ;  apparently  much  too 
large  for  feed  sticks,  and  too  short  and  thick  for  building 


The  Beaver  and  his  Camp,  243 

purposes,  I  failed  to  find  a  reasonable  explanation  for  it ; 
the  only  one  that  presented  itself  to  me,  namely,  that 
the  logs  were  the  result  of  naughty-boy  beavers  of  the 
destructive  age  of  thirteen  or  fourteen,  eager  to  sharpen 
their  teeth,  seemed  too  absurd.  None  of  the  trappers  I 
interrogated  on  this  matter  could  assign  a  reason,  for  they 
had  never  given  the  question  a  thought ;  so  I  set  about  to 
discover  it  for  myself  by  dint  of  careful  watching.  The 
first  thing  I  did  was  to  make  mental  notes  regarding  the 
condition  of  the  ground  in  those  places  where  beaver 
timber  was  found  ;  for  its  distribution  was  singularly 
uncertain,  some  localities  abounding  with  it,  while  along 
other  creeks  where  beavers  lived  we  could  find  not  a  trace 
of  it  for  days  and  weeks.  I  soon  discovered  that  these 
short  thick  logs  occurred  only  along  creeks  having  level 
banks,  where  nature  failed  to  aid  their  transportation  by 
providing  more  or  less  steeply-inclined  planes  to  roll  down 
the  trunks  of  trees.  In  fact  I  found  them  to  occur  mostly 
where  no  large  trees  grew  close  to  the  creek  the  home  of 
the  sturdy  woodcutters,  and  where  patches  of  dense  shrub 
and  cottonwoods  flourished  at  some  little  distance  from 
the  waterside. 

Soon  after  making  this  discovery  I  passed  a  very  bright 
October  moonlight  night,  watching,  as  I  often  did,  for  a 
grizzly,  in  a  copse  of  this  description.  I  was  perched  in 
the  fork  of  a  good-sized,  leafless  cottonwood,  at  the  base 
of  which  lay  the  carcass  of  a  white-tail  deer,  the  bait 
intended  to  attract  bkniin,  and  near  which,  a  day  or  two 
before,  he  had  first  cached  and  then  devoured  a  similar 
bonne  bouche,  provided  for  him  by  my  rifle.  With  my 
hand-axe  I  had  made  myself  a  comfortable  seat,  carefully 
concealing  the  shining  barrels  of  my  rifle — a  very  neces- 

B  2 


244  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

eary,  but  often  neglected  precaution,  where  wary  beasts  ol 
prey,  never  more  wary  than  when  approaching  a  cache  or  a 
bait,  are  concerDcd.  The  calm,  glorious  evening  had 
long  merged  into  the  peaceful  tranquillity  of  a  moonlight 
landscape,  my  pocket  literature  enabling  me  to  while 
away  the  time,  when  a  noise  of  breaking  twigs  attracted 
my  attention,  and  made  me  "grab"  the  Express  con- 
cealed under  my  coat.  The  disturbance,  however,  was  not 
caused  by  my  expected  bear,  but  by  old  friends,  a  tardy 
family  of  beavers,  about  to  begin,  somewhat  later  than 
usual,  their  nocturnal  "  cutting/'  On  this  occasion,  and 
only  on  this  one,  have  I  watched  the  production  of  these 
logs,  which,  with  the  bark  left  on,  were  cut  from  trees 
previously  gnawed  down,  the  entire  trunk  being  far  too 
heavy  for  the  beaver  to  move  or  turn  on  level  ground, 
while  the  single  pieces  could  be  pushed  along  with  per- 
fect ease. 

It  was  an  interesting  sight  to  watch  the  old  pater 
familias  set  to  work  on  a  previously  felled  trunk,  soon 
followed  by  several  more  youthful  labourers,  scions  pro- 
bably of  the  diligent  foreman  of  the  works.  With  amazing 
energy  their  sharp,  ever-keen  gnawing  tools  plied  through 
the  wood,  the  shavings  in  width  corresponding  to  the 
breadth  of  the  gouge  shaped  edge  of  their  teeth,  now  and 
again  jerked  aside  with  a  comic  vicious-looking  toss  of  the 
buUet-shaped  head.  Unfortunately,  not  having  a  watch, 
I  was  unable  to  time  the  speed  with  which  the  logs  were 
cut.  I  should  say  that  half  an  hour  amply  covered  the 
period  occupied  in  cutting  one  log  of  about  ten  inches  in 
diameter.  While  standing  trees  are  gnawed  roimd  the 
circumference  from  nine  inches  to  fifteen  inches  from  the 
ground,  the  deepest  cutting  being  done  on  the  side  towardi 


The  Beaver  and  his  Camp.  245 

wbicli  the  tree  is  to  fall,  felled  trunks  too  heavy  to  turn 
over  offer  more  difficulties,  the  greater  portion  of  the 
gnawing  having  to  be  done  from  the  uppermost  side  ; 
hence  also  it  is  easy  to  know,  by  the  surface  of  the  cut, 
whether  a  tree  has  been  worked  on  while  standing,  or 
when  prostrated  on  the  ground.  These  logs  supply,  I  am 
inclined  to  think,  a  twofold  want ;  for  not  only  is  the  bark 
welcome  winter  provender,  but  their  bulky  nature  makes 
them  good  building  material  wherewith  to  dam  up  the 
base  of  a  dyke.  I  have  found  them  in  many  instances 
built  up  in  the  lower  submerged  part  of  big  dams  torn 
down  by  ruthless  trapper  hands,  and  where,  in  the  original 
condition  of  the  dyke,  they  could  not  be  seen.* 

While  all,  or  very  nearly  all,  old  beaver-timber  is 
peeled,  most  of  it  betrays,  when  found  on  dry  land,  its 
having  been  once  submerged  for  a  considerable  period. 
The  fact  that  the  logs  are  found  on  dry  ground,  often  some 
distance  from  the  next  creek,  is  easily  explained,  if  we 
remember  that  the  high  water  of  spring  time  uproots 
many  a  beaver  dam,  drifting  the  logs,  and  also  smaller 
building  material,  all  over  the  surrounding  level  stretches 
of  country.  The  few  isolated  instances  of  beaver  timber 
with  the  bark  on,  and  which  had  never  been  exposed  to 
water,  are,  as  I  had  occasion  to  see  on  my  last  trip,  the 
result  of  cutting  down  felled  trees  to  a  certain  length,  so 

*  One  of  Professor  Hay  den's  scientific  assistants  in  the  Second 
Survey  party  of  the  Territories  has  published  in  the  American 
Naturalist  some  interesting  notes  on  beavers.  The  beaver  timber- 
logs  of  which  I  have  just  spoken  seemed  to  have  puzzled  hiu,  though 
he  makes  a  happy  guess  at  their  use  when  he  says,  "  They  are 
probably  prepared  with  the  intention  of  filling  up  chinks  in  the  walls 
of  dams,"  no  actual  proof  of  this,  however,  being  furnished  by  th« 
writer. 


246  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

as  just  to  span  the  creek  or  fit  tte  outlet  of  a  pool,  foi 
which  desirable  end  the  trunks  were  originally  gnawed 
down. 

Beavers  live  chiefly  on  the  bark  of  their  favourite  trees 
at  least  during  the  open  season.  But  it  is  unquestionable 
that  they  subsist  also  >n  woud,  it  having  been  found  on  dis- 
section that  their  stomachs  were  filled  with  lignine  with  no 
perceptible  remains  of  bark,  and  the  contents  of  the  caecum 
disclosing  the  same  fact,  the  digestive  process  simply 
removing  the  saccharine  from  the  wood.  The  frequent 
absence  of  chips  at  the  foot  of  trees  freshly  gnawed  by 
beavers  speaks  also  for  this  fact. 

Regarding  the  altitude  at  which  beavers  live,  it  seems 
wholly  governed  by  the  presence  of  their  favourite  trees 
and  shrubs.  In  the  Big  Wind  River  Mountains  I  found 
families  peopling  some  of  the  small  lakes  at  an  altitude 
of  over  9000  or  10,000  feet.  Many  of  the  lakes,  how- 
ever, had  no  willows  or  asps  about  them,  and  there 
also  no  beavers  would  be.  I  was  unable  to  determine 
whether  beavers  remained  at  such  extreme  heights  during 
the  long  winter  months,  or  whether  they  migrated  down 
the  creeks  into  the  bigger  valleys  2000  or  3000  feet 
lower.  Trappers  appear  to  favour  the  latter  theory.  That 
beavers  winter  at  8000  or  9000  feet  over  sea  level  is  an 
undisputed  fact,  of  which  I  convinced  myself  personally, 
for  I  found  them  inhabiting  their  snug  houses  at  that 
altitude  in  the  month  of  December. 

Autumn  brings  a  full  complement  of  work  for  our  little 
workers.  The  winter  house  or  the  nest  in  the  bank  has 
to  be  repaired — the  first  replastered  with  mud,  which  on 
becoming  hard  shields  the  inmates  efiectually  against 
the  attacks   of   hungry  wolves;   the  latter  padded  with 


The  Beaver  and  his  Camp.  247 

moss.  Then  the  winter  provender  has  to  be  collected  in 
the  shape  of  feed-sticks — pieces  of  cotton  wood,  willow,  or 
ash  saplings,  from  nine  to  twelve  inches  in  length,  of 
which  the  bark  is  the  favourite  food.  These  are  stacked 
up  under  water,  generally  at  the  foot  of  the  nearest  dam, 
or  in  the  case  of  bank  beaver  are  taken  right  into  their 
subterranean  caverns.  Some  of  the  old- bachelor  beavers, 
who,  not  unlike  very  old  stags  or  bull  buffaloes,  stray  from 
their  fellows,  and  go  roaming  about  the  country,  seem 
strangely  improvident  concerning  their  winter  supplies. 

Most  trappers  believe  implicitly  in  their  victims' 
proficiency  as  weather  clerks ;  if  beavers  collect  their 
feed-sticks  early,  winter  is  close  at  hand,  and  vice  versa. 
On  the  two  occasions  when  I  have  been  able  to  watch  this, 
it  certainly  turned  out  correct. 

Beaver,  in  countries  where  their  favourite  quaking-asp 
and  cottonwood-trees  flourish,  very  rarely  touch  the  resinous 
evergreens  of  the  forest,  whether  for  feeding  or  for  building 
purposes.  In  one  or  two  localities  I  found  cedar-trees  of 
medium  growth  gnawed  down ;  but  it  was  impossible  to 
tell  whether  they  had  done  this  in  the  extremities  of 
hunger  or  simply  to  clear  their  path.  Never  having  come 
upon  fresh  cedar  cuttings,  I  cannot  account  for  it  with  any 
degree  of  certainty. 

In  Oregon,  however,  the  animal  appears  to  evince  a  less 
marked  partiality.  Dr.  Newberry,  in  his  '*  Zoology  of 
Oregon,"  states  that  in  the  Cascade  Mountains,  in  that 
Territory  (a  range  not  visited  by  me),  "  whole  groves  of 
young  pine-trees  are  cut  down  within  a  few  inches  of  the 

ground,  and  carried  off  bodily The  largest  stump 

I  noticed  was  a  spruce  pine  twelve  inches  in  diameter." 
There  is  a  possibility  that  the  evergreen  trees  observed 


248  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

by  Dr.  ITewberry  were  cut  down  by  the  beavers  to  obtain 
the  nutritious  mosses,  which  grow  upon  certain  species 
of  evergreen  trees  in  Oregon  in  great  profusion.  This 
vegetable  parasite  is  collected  by  the  Indians,  and  cooked 
or  baked  in  much  the  same  way  they  prepare  their 
"  kamash,"  a  sort  of  moss  glue  being  thus  obtained,  which 
is  said  to  be  both  palatable  and  nutritious.  Certain  it  is 
that  while  beaver  on  the  Atlantic  slopes  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  and  the  Eastern  lake  districts  never  touch 
evergreen  trees,  those  on  the  Pacific  slope  apparently 
sometimes  make  an  exception.  Most  of  the  trappers  of 
experience  whom  I  took  occasion  to  interrogate  concerning 
Oregon  beaver,  told  me  that  occasionally  they  came  across 
instances  of  spruce,  tamarack,  or  any  other  resinous  ever- 
green, showing  beaver  signs.  Dr.  Newberry's  experience 
may  have  been  exceptional. 

Beavers  migrate,  and  for  two  reasons,  dearth  of  the  willow 
brush  and  cotton  wood- trees,  which  are  their  means  of  subsis- 
tence, and  constant  persecution  on  the  part  of  man.  They 
go  down  stream  till  they  strike  the  main  river,  and  then, 
moving  up  or  down  its  course,  make  for  another  tributary 
creek. 

In  Canada,  I  understand,  trappers  subdivide  beavers 
into  lake  and  stream  beaver ;  but  in  the  northern  portions 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains  of  the  United  Si  ates  this  does  not 
hold  good,  as  creek  or  river  beaver  will  migrate  to  lakes 
and  mce  versd. 

One  hears  and  reads  a  good  deal  about  trappers  and 
their  craft ;  but  the  details  of  their  art — how,  when,  and 
where  their  quarry  is  caught — are  less  known,  for  not  only 
are  fur.  hunters  generally  uneducated  men,  who  in  their 
isolated  lives  have  long  forgotten — if  they  ever  knew  it — 


The  Beaver  and  his  Camp.  249 

how  to  wield  a  pen ;  but  they  are  also  governed  by  ex- 
treme jealousy  respecting  what  they  fondly  imagine  to  be 
the  secrets  of  their  craft. 

->^  Beaver  trapping  is  by  no  means  an  easy  craft  to  learn, 
and  to  be  moderately  successful  long  experience  and  sharp 
eyes  are  essential.  The  first  thing  to  be  done  on  reaching 
trapping  ground  is  to  discover  "  slides  " — i.e.  the  places 
where  beaver  pass  up  and  down  the  banks  of  the  river, 
lake,  or  creek  in  quest  of  food  or  building  material.  Keen 
and  practised  eyes  will  detect  slides  more  readily,  for  they 
are  often  well-worn  passage  ways.  The  same  beaver  will 
rarely  use  more  than  two  slides,  though  often  half  a  dozen 
or  more  will  scramble  up  and  down  the  same  slippery 
pathway.  "  Runways,"  another  technical  expression,  are 
the  places  where  beavers  pass  over  their  dams,  usually 
where  they  are  lowest. 

The  traps  in  general  use  are  the  Newhouse  No.  4  steel 
trap  with  plain,  blunt  fangs,  and  weighing  from  2jlbs.  to 
3^ lbs.,  according  to  the  length  of  chain.  The  springs  are 
very  powerful,  closing  with  amazing  force,  and  requiring 
some  practice  to  open  them.  Ordinarily  they  are  set  in 
the  water  at  the  foot  of  the  slide,  or  now  and  again  a1 
either  end  of  a  runway.  Before  setting,  the  trapper  must 
make  sure  the  slide  is  not  an  old  one  ;  a  brief  examinatior 
will  suffice  to  settle  that  point.  The  trapper,  protectee^; 
by  his  high  indiarubber  boots,  then  wades  into  the  water, 
not  unfrequently  up  to  his  chest,  if  the  banks  are  at  aL 
steep.  A  stake  two  or  three  feet  in  length,  cut  from  the 
young  pine-tree,  is  then  driven  firmly  into  the  bank,  under 
water-line,  care  being  taken  that  the  cut  surface  of  the 
wood  is  masked  by  a  dab  of  mud  or  a  piece  of  bark.  To 
this  stake,  a  couple  of  inches  in  diameter,  the  chain  of  the 


250  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

trap  is  tlie^  fastened,  making  it  impossible  for  the  beavei 
to  drag  the  trap  away — mere  child's  play  for  the  'very 
powerful  animal  were  it  not  for  this  precaution.  Then 
the  trap  is  set,  that  is,  opened  and  placed  in  such  a 
manner  on  or  near  the  bottom  of  the  slide,  nine  or  ten 
inches  under  water,  so  that  the  beaver,  going  or  returning 
over  it,  is  apt  to  strike  the  trigger  plate  with  one  of  his 
feet — if  possible,  one  of  the  hind  ones ;  the  trap  itself 
is  concealed  by  mud  or  leaves.  Now  comes  the  nicest 
part  of  the  undertaking,  the  question  of  "medicine" 
or  scent,  the  purpose  of  which  is  to  attract  any  stray 
beaver  wandering  up  and  down  stream  by  placing  a  minute 
particle  of  a  strongly  smelling  substance  on  or  near  the 
slide.  Some  few  trappers  never  make  use  of  scent,  but  by 
far  the  greater  number  are  fanatical  believers  in  one  or 
other  of  the  hundred  and  one  different  "medicines."  With 
the  exception  of  those  that  apply  only  beaver- scent — that 
is,  the  contents  of  the  beaver's  oil  or  musk  bag  (or  casto- 
reum),  a  yellow  butter-like  matter  of  a  very  peculiar  odoup 
— the  choice  of  artificial  medicine  is  a  matter  of  great  con- 
troversy among  the  fraternity  ;  and  it  is  highly  amusing 
to  listen  to  the  high-flown  praise  the  gnarled  old  "  stags  " 
will  bestow  upon  their  own  peculiar  mixture,  the  recipe 
of  which  they  treasure  as  the  secret  of  their  craft.  A  re- 
liable pelt  hunter  once  told  me  that  the  Fur  Company 
trapper,  an  old  veteran,  with  whom,  many  years  before, 
he  passed  his  trapper  apprenticeship,  would  not  divulge 
the  recipe  of  the  compound  he  used  till  his  dying  day, 
notwithstanding  that  they  lived  and  trapped  together  in 
the  far-off  wilderness  of  the  Oregon  and  Montana  forests 
for  siK  long  years.  Finally,  mortally  wounded  by  an 
Indian  arrow,  he   revealed,  while   lying  on  the  ground 


The  Beaver  and  his  Camp,  251 

gasping  for  breath,  the  grand  secret  of  his  life  to  his 
faithful  partner. 

Assafoetida,  oil  of  aniseed,  and  other  pungent  essential 
oils,  are  not  usually  subjects  to  which  hang  romantic  tales ; 
but  this  story  of  life  and  death  proved  the  contrary. 

I  was  not  a  little  amused  when,  on  returning  to  civi' 
lization  from  my  second  trip,  several  old  veteran  trappers, 
entrusted  me,  in  whispered  confidence,  with  certain  never- 
^jo-be-revealed  secrets,  namely,  the  names  of  such  drugs 
for  tbeir  medicine  they  could  not  obtain  in  the  frontier 
settlements,  which  they  begged  me  to  send  them  from 
Chicago  or  New  York — a  sufficiently  overwhelming  token 
of  confidence  to  make  an  old  man  of  me  in  the  con- 
scientious endeavour  to  keep  the  secrets.  I  am  not  trans- 
gressing my  trust  if  I  mention  that  they  were  of  the  most 
varied  nature,  some  of  the  commonest  being  oil  of  aniseed, 
of  amber,  of  cassia,  of  cloves,  of  fennel  seed,  of  thyme,  and 
oil  of  rhodium. 

After  using  the  trap,  great  care  has  to  be  taken  that 
every  article,  twig,  or  stake  touched  by  the  hand  is  care- 
fully washed  off  with  water,  which  is  done  most  effectually 
by  dashing  some  over  it.  Beaver  have  exceedingly  keen 
scenting  powers,  and  would  not  think  of  passing  over  a 
slide  near  which  a  trapper  has  been  at  work  who  failed  to 
observe  that  precaution. 

The  traps  are  always  set  in  the  early  evening,  an  hour 
or  so  before  dusk,  the  majority  of  beavers  being  caught  in 
the  early  hours  of  the  following  morning.  A  trapper's 
camp  is  an  early-rising  one,  breakfast  being  generally 
eaten  at  dawn,  for  it  is  essential  to  visit  the  traps  as 
soon  as  possible,  as  beavers  have  a  knack  of  getting  away 
in   an   astonishing  manner  if  left  too  long  between  the 


252  Ca?nps  in  the  Rockies, 

fangs  of  the  trap.  If  caught  by  one  of  their  front  legs, 
they  will  gnaw  it  off,  just  above  the  fangs;  or  what 
happens  as  often,  they  are  drowned  in  their  vain 
endeavours  to  rid  themselves  of  the  trap  by  getting 
entangled  in  the  chain  ;  or,  if  the  water  is  very  deep,  they 
are  liable  to  get  submerged  in  such  a  position  that  the 
latter  holds  them  down.  On  an  average,  I  should  say 
about  one- third  of  the  beavers  caught  are  found  alive  in 
the  traps  when  the  trapper  gets  to  them.  Say  twenty 
traps  are  set,  it  is  considered  good  work  if  six  beavers  are 
caught,  as  many  traps  will  have  been  sprung  without 
retaining  the  victim,  and  the  rest  will  not  have  been 
touched. 

Beavers  are  rarely  trapped  in  summer,  on  account  of 
the  inferior  quality  of  the  pelt,  the  latter  half  of  October 
being  generally  considered  the  opening  of  the  season, 
though  at  higher  altitudes,  where  winter  may  be  said  to 
commence  in  September,  the  pelt  will  be  much  earlier  in 
prime  condition,  the  animals  shedding  their  winter  coat 
very  late,  and  '' rehairing ''  very  early.  There  are 
numerous  tricks  for  increasing  the  weight  of  the  skins ; 
for,  as  they  are  all  bought  by  the  pound — the  present  price 
in  New  York  being  about  $2,  or  8s.  per  pound,  a  big  skin 
weighing,  or,  as  the  trapper  will  say,  ''hefting,"  a  little  over 
two  pounds — it  is  an  object  with  many  an  unscrupulous  man 
to  get  together  as  many  pounds  as  he  can.  A  very  general 
dodge,  which  ruins  the  skins,  is  to  strew  a  cupful  or  so 
of  fine  sand  made  red-hot  over  the  fresh  skin;  each 
minute  particle  sinks  right  into  the  hide,  and  as  it  dries, 
these  artificial  pores  close  up,  and  the  fraud  is  only  dis- 
covered when  the  pelt  comes  under  the  furrier's  knife.  A 
more  innocent  trick  is  to  rub  cold  sand   into   the   skin 


The  Beaver  and  his  Camp,  253 

while  yet  wet;  this  does  not  impair  its  market  value. 
But  also  the  trappers  are  subjected  to  ruses  on  the  part 
of  the  trade.  To  mention  only  one,  it  is  a  common 
stratagem  to  "rig  up"  the  fur  market  in  summer, 
the  great  fur-buying  houses  in  the  Atlantic  seaboard  cities 
sending  out  circulars  to  their  Western  correspondents  in 
which  prices  of  all  pelts  are  put  at  advanced  rates,  fifty  or 
more  per  cent,  over  the  last  spring  values.  The  news 
that  beaver  has  "  riz  "  spreads  like  wildfire,  and  trappera 
set  out  on  their  dreary  and  dangerous  winter's  occupation 
in  the  lonely  wilderness  with  redoubled  zeal,  only  to  find 
on  their  return  to  the  frontier  settlements  in  the  following 
April  or  May  that  prices  have  gone  back  to  lower  rates 
than  ever.  Thus  the  old  story  of  grindstone  and  knife 
repeats  itself. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  a  daily  catch  of  six 
beavers  is  an  ordinary  one.  To  be  able  to  score  that 
number  for  any  length  of  time,  the  most  out-of-the-way 
places  have  to  be  sought,  and  then  even  the  trapper  risks 
finding  not  a  single  good  *'  ground,"  earlier  birds  having 
picked  up  the  crumbs.  To  reach  such  secluded  beaver 
grounds,  weeks  and  months  pass  in  autumn  or  winter 
travel  through  districts  where,  even  in  the  height  of 
summer,  the  difficulties  are  often  overwhelming.  Or, 
again,  say  the  goal  is  finally  reached,  the  hardships  of 
an  Arctic  winter  face  the  lonely  trapper.  "While  on  the 
Plains  and  among  the  foothills  of  the  Rocky  Mountains 
very  high  winds  prevail,  which  sweep  off  the  snow,  this  is 
not  the  case  in  the  higher  Alpine  forest  regions,  where 
Bnow  lies  deep  and  very  long. 

The  Indians  of  the  United  States— at  least  those  of 
Wyoming,  Colorado,  Idaho,  and  Montana— are   very  in« 


254  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

different  trappers.  The  half-breeds,  on  the  contrary,  are 
deadly  enemies  of  the  beaver  tribe,  for  they  combine  the 
'cuteness  of  the  white  man  and  the  dogged  perseverance  and 
primitive  style  of  living  of  their  mothers'  race.  They  will 
winter  in  regions  where  but  very  few  even  of  the  amaz- 
ingly hardy  trappers  will  venture  to  remain;  and,  moreover, 
as  they  have  generally  a  little  party  of  squaws  and  young 
bucks  with  them,  they  reap  all  the  advantages  of  skilful 
and  gratuitous  labour  in  the  skinning  and  preparing  of 
the  pelt.  Not  a  few  white  trappers  are  married  to  squaws; 
but  while  their  wives*  kith  and  kin  will  not  willingly 
accompany  the  paleface,  they  would  do  so  very  readily 
were  the  man  a  half-breed.  Not  a  few  trapper  *'  outfits  '* 
I  met  or  heard  of  were  composed  of  both  elements,  say 
one  white  man  and  a  half-breed,  with  a  couple  of  willing 
female  slaves.  These,  as  a  rule,  are  perhaps  the  most 
successful,  and  I  have  heard  of  very  large  takes,  making 
the  business  a  really  profitable  one,  were  it  not  that  the 
trappers,  both  whites  and  natives,  are  usually  terribly 
cheated  when  exchanging  their  peltry  for  provisions. 
The  Government  post  traders  and  Indian  agents  at  the 
remote  little  Indian  forts,  pushed  far  in  advance  of  other 
white  settlements,  make  a  250  per  cent,  profit  in  buying 
up  beaver  skins  (they  usually  allow  jjl  or  4s.  worth  of 
provisions,  which  cost  them  perhaps  little  more  than  half) 
and  sending  them  direct  to  wholesale  house  in  New  York, 
where  they  fetch  from  8s.  to  10s. 

In  the  old  days  of  the  fur  traders  the  beaver  skin  was 
the  unit  of  computation  in  buying  or  trading.  Provisions, 
ammunition,  and  blankets  were  bought  with  beaver  skins, 
and  horses  and  squaw  wives  were  traded  for  them.  A 
thirty-skin   wife   was   an   average   article.      Considering 


7^he  Beaver  and  his  Camp.  255 

tliat  the  working  of  the  peltry,  the  tanning  and  soften- 
ing, fell  always  to  the  lot  of  these  unfortunate  female 
slaves,  it  was  in  past  days  no  unusual  occurrence  for 
one  wife  to  work  up  skins  wherewith,  in  good  Mormon 
fashion,  a  new  wife  was  to  be  traded.  Among  some 
few  North- Western  Indian  tribes  this  monetary  standard 
still  prevails ;  but,  generally  speaking,  money  or  buck- 
skins (deer-hides)  have  taken  its  place  in  intertribal 
dealing. 

The  market  value  of  beaver  pelt  is  liable  to  considerable 
variations,  and  the  trade  subdivides  this  species  of  fur  into 
eight  or  ten  different  categories. 

In  travelling  with  trappers  through  their  favourite 
mountain  retreats,  the  most  secluded  spots  left  on  this  vast 
continent,  you  very  frequently  come  upon  sad  scenes  of 
havoc,  where  beaver  have  been  completely  trapped  out— -or 
what  is  perhaps  more  correct,  very  nearly  annihilated  by 
trappers,  the  few  remaining  ones,  probably  crippled  by  the 
traps,  leaving  their  hitherto  peaceful  homes  to  seek 
elsewhere  security  from  man's  persecution.  I  well 
remember  a  cluster  of  small  lakes  in  the  "Wind  River 
Mountains  that  presented  a  woeful  picture  of  desolation. 
Half-breed  trappers  had  discovered  the  very  secluded  dams 
the  previous  season,  and  had  made  an  enormous  bag, 
trapping  right  from  one  camp  173  beaver,  the  inmates  of 
the  tarns,  which  had  probably  never  before  been  visited 
by  human  beings.  Traversing  the  vast  and  very  nearly 
impenetrable  tracts  of  forest  that  surround  the  lakelets, 
I  happened  to  stumble  upon  unmistakable  signs  of  human 
travel  through  the  woods.  Following  these  signs,  now  as 
my  guide  a  blazed  trunk,  then  a  tree  felled  to  clear  the 
way  for  pack  animals  the  cut  surface  showing  the  clean 


256  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

work  of  white  men's  or  half-breeds* '  axes,  and  not  the 
chop  of  Indians — I  finally,  after  half  a  day's  ramble,  came 
upon  the  goal  of  my  predecessors,  six  or  seven  small  lakes 
nestling  under  an  isolated  towering  mass  of  rock,  and  so 
securely  screened  by  dense  timber,  and  an  inner  belt  of 
cottonwood-trees  and  willows,  that  you  might  have  passed 
five-and-twenty  yards  from  their  banks  without  ever 
suspecting  the  presence  of  a  lake.  It  was  the  heau  ideal 
of  a  trapper's  camp ;  a  small  clearing  made  by  their  axes 
was  still  dotted  with  skeleton  remains  of  "  wickey-ups  " 
bower  tents — I  might  describe  them — and  strewn  about  in 
great  number  lay  birch  or  willow  saplings  bent  into  rings 
about  two  feet  in  diameter,  whereupon  the  beaver  skius 
had  been  stretched  while  drying.  The  pools  had  evidently 
once  been  one  single  lake,  but  the  beaver,  by  ingenious 
dykes,  had  divided  it  into  six  or  seven  smaller  sheets  of 
water,  lying  tier-like,  one  slightly  raised  over  the  other. 
The  nearest  to  the  spring  supplying  the  water  was,  of 
course,  the  highest,  about  eight  or  ten  feet  being  the 
difierence  between  its  water  level  and  that  of  the  lowest, 
miniature  cascades  and  channel-like  timber  floats  con- 
necting the  different  lakelets.  These  channels  for  timber 
are  very  ingeniously  laid-out  contrivances,  from  three  to 
five  feet  in  width,  and  from  two  to  four  feet  in  depth  ; 
they  are  intended  for  floating  larger  pieces  of  wood  fro:n 
place  to  place,  especially  where  the  previously-constructed 
dykes  render  the  transportation  of  trunks  a  difficult  or 
impossible  job  for  the  little  workers. 

*  An  Indian,  be  he  ever  so  handy  at  other  things,  never  learns  the 
use  of  the  axe  as  white  men  do.  He  invariably  notches  the  tree  in  a 
most  unsightly  manner  ;  here  a  chop,  there  a  cut,  but  never  the  clean, 
even  handiwork  of  civilized  man.  Half-breeds,  with  the  "  white " 
blood  infused  into  their  veins,  learn  also  the  use  of  the  axe. 


2  he  Beaver  and  his  Camp.  257 

On  one  side  of  the  pools  the  ground  rose  at  a  steep  angle 
fco  a  slight  eminence,  the  slopes  of  which  were  covered  by 
cotton  woods  and  quaking  asps  (asp-trees),  some  of  consi- 
derable girth.  Down  tbis  declivity  the  beaver  had  made 
regular  timber  shoots,  showing  very  plainly  that  many 
generations  of  the  indefatigable  little  workers  had  dragged 
or  "  shot "  their  building  materials  down  the  well-worn 
grooves  in  the  soil.  A  glance  at  the  numerous  neatly- 
trimmed  stumps  that  dotted  the  hill-side,  many  over 
four  feet  in  circumference,  gave  a  further  proof  of  the 
wonderful  activity  of  this  beaver  town's  population.  I  do 
not  remember  ever  seeing  a  more  complete  colony,  with 
bigger  dykes  or  better  planned  accessories,  one  and  all 
evincing,  to  a  very  striking  degree,  perfect  knowledge 
of  the  principles  of  hydrostatics. 

At  the  head  of  the  topmost  lake,  and  surrounding  the 
spring,  lay  a  beautiful  stretch  o/*  what  is  known  as  beaver 
meadow,  caused  by  the  gradual  accumulation  of  alluvial 
matter  in  the  basin  formed  by  the  first  dyke  of  the 
*'  town."  Some  150  yards  in  length,  and  half  that  width, 
it  was  covered  with  a  close  and  even  carpet  of  fine  grass, 
forming  a  charming  contrast  to  the  sage  green  of  the 
cottonwoods,  here  and  there  touched  up  with  autumn  hues, 
and  the  uniform  dark  sombre  green  of  the  silent  pine 
forest  in  the  background.  It  was  altogether  a  picture  not 
easily  forgotten — beautiful  but  sad. 

The  half-breed  trappers,  whom  I  happened  to  meet  some 
weeks  afterwards,  had  worked  like  Yandals.  Not  only  was 
there  not  a  single  beaver  left,  but  several  of  the  large  dams 
dividing  the  lakelets  from  each  other  had  been  ruthlessly 
torn  down  by  them  in  their  efforts  to  recover  lost  traps ; 
for  if  beaver  can  manage  to  loosen  the  stake  to  which  the 

s 


258  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

trap  in  which  they  are  caught  is  chained,  they  will  walk 
it  off,  dragging  it  after  them  to  their  subterranean  houses 
in  the  dams.  Traps  are  very  valuable  in  the  wilderness  ; 
for  though  you  can  buy  them  by  the  dozen  for  something 
like  eighty  shillings  in  Western  towns,  they  are  of  course 
worth  five  or  ten  times  that  in  the  wilds.  The  water-level 
had  of  course  been  lowered  considerably  where  the  dams 
had  been  torn  down,  so  that  the  lower  portion  of  the  dykes 
became  visible.  There  were  two  or  three  of  forty  and  fifty 
yards  in  length,  about  seven  feet  high,  and  at  the  base  at 
least  four  feet  in  breadth — massive  structures,  wonderfully 
planned  and  built.  In  several  places  willow  roots  had 
been  used  by  the  beaver,  and  during  the  past  summer  they 
had  made  shoots  a  foot  or  two  in  length,  giving  the  solid 
dyke  a  very  singular  appearance.  In  one  of  these  saplings, 
larger  than  the  rest,  a  bird  had  built  its  nest ;  but  the 
inmates  were  long  flown,  and  the  shoot  with  the  nest  was 
swaying  gently  to  and  fro  in  the  evening  breeze.  The 
melancholy  silence  of  American  Alpine  forests  lay  over  the 
whole  scene.  It  was  too  late  to  return  that  day  to  my 
camp,  so  I  picketed  my  old  horse  in  the  opening,  and 
after  a  frugal  supper  watched  the  sun  go  down  on  this 
desolated  beaver  town.  Not  a  sound  was  to  be  heard,  nor 
was  a  solitary  living  thing  visible  ;  and  so  profound  was 
the  death-gloom  that  hung  over  the  spot,  that  even  the 
roaring  fire  that  I  presently  lit,  in  front  of  which  I 
stretched  myself  on  my  saddle  blankets,  failed  to  chase 
away  the  melancholy  mood  of  Nature  and  man. 

As  I  lay  there,  my  head  comfortably  propped  up  on  my 
saddle,  smoking  my  pipe,  and  idly  watching  the  lights 
and  shadows  of  my  fire  dancing  with  weird  effects  on  the 
darV  wall   of  rock  frowning  overhead,  the  fate  of  this 


The  Beaver  and  his  Camp.  259 

devastated  home  of  sturdy  little  animals — notliing  left  but 
ruins  to  represent  wliat  but  a  short  twelvemonth  before 
was  the  picture  of  wonderful  animal  activity,  of  brute 
intelligence  of  the  highest  order — made  the  ruthlessly 
desecrating  work  of  man  seem  doubly  vile. 

Beaver  have  left  far  more  lasting  and  useful  monuments 
of  their  laborious  activity  on  the  surface  of  the  country 
than  the  aboriginal  inhabitants. 

Whole  valleys  are  refertilized  by  them,  the  process 
being  far  quicker  than  one  might  suppose.  Tersely  ren- 
dered, it  is  as  follows  : — Given,  a  stream  traversing  a  small 
valley,  with  rocky  ground,  on  which  grow  only  occasional 
cottonwoods ;  a  colony  of  beaver  on  taking  possession  of 
it  will  soon  make  it  into  meadow-land.  The  grove  of  trees 
furthest  down  the  stream  is  first  tackled.  When  autumn 
comes  few  of  them  are  left  to  rear  their  heads.  They 
have  been  gnawed  down,  their  trunks  cut  into  logs,  which 
form  the  foundation  of  an  amazingly  strong  and  massive 
dam  stretched  across  the  stream  where  it  is  narrowest, 
forming  on  the  upper  side  a  profound  pool,  as  deep  as  the 
dam  is  high.  If  the  supply  of  wood  lasts,  consecutive 
dams  will  be  built  up  stream,  from  thirty  to  a  hundred 
yards  apart,  so  that  finally,  in  the  course  of  twenty  or 
thirty  years,  there  will  be  no  running  water  left.  I 
have  passed  many  such  streams,  when  for  miles  you  will 
pass  beaver  dam  upon  beaver  dam.  Time  comes  when  the 
supply  of  wood  is  exhausted,  or  from  other  causes  a 
migration  of  the  indefatigable  workers  occurs.  If  no 
exceptional  freshet  or  waterspout  sweep  them  away,  the 
dams  soon  become  part  of  the  soil.  Earth  and  vegetable 
matter  gradually  accumulate,  and  the  beaver-ponds,  no 
longer  cleared   of  rubbish  by  their  constructors,  slowly 

s  2 


26o  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

silt  up,  turning  first  into  marshy  expanses,  and  then 
gradually  into  firm  perfectly  level  meadow-land  of  the 
richest  alluvial  soil,  on  which  flourishes  sod  of  a  beautifully 
close  and  silken  texture,  rivalling  the  famous  glacier 
meadows  in  the  sierras,  which,  according  to  King,  pre- 
sumably occupy  the  site  of  glacier  lakeg. 


CHAPTER  X. 

WINTER   CAMPS   AND   INDIAN   CAMPS. 

Life  in  a  dug-out — Our  Indian  neighbour — Hunting  dead  deer— 
Our  relations — A  precipitate  return — An  Indian  episode — A 
reservation — Two  misunderstandings — The  Indian  languages- 
Parting  with  my  men — A  cold  drive — Civilization — Relapsing 
into  semi-savagery :  its  benefits. 

Once  or  twice  in  these  pages  mention  has  been  made  of 
dug-outs,  I  happen  to  write  these  lines  in  one  of  these 
subterranean  abodes,  so  the  information  I  have  to  give 
comes  from  the  first  hand.  To  give  the  reader  an  idea  of 
the  construction  and  mise-en-scene  of  a  dug-out,  let  him 
imagine  a  big  Cheshire  cheese  divided  in  halves,  the  two 
surfaces  of  the  cut  moved  slightly  apart  to  represent  the 
perpendicular  loam  banks  of  a  nameless  creek.  In  one  of 
the  walls,  at  its  base,  cut  a  square  hole,  not  quite  as  high 
as  it  is  long  and  broad.  In  front  of  this  opening  pile  up 
bread  crumbs  in  lieu  of  stones  plastered  with  mud,  leaving 
but  a  small  aperture  by  which  to  creep  in  and  out ;  and 
the  reader  will  have  before  him  a  faithful  miniature  model 
of  a  dug-out. 

It  will  be  seen  that,  while  its  construction  is  simple,  its 
space,  some  ten  by  nine  feet,  is  somewhat  confined  to 


262  Camps  in  iH  Rockies. 

house  four  men,  two  dogs,  a  dozen  or  more  saddles  and 
pack-saddles,  the  stores,  sundry  shooting-irons,  two  dozen 
beaver  traps,  bales  of  fur,  and  trifles  too  numerous  to  men- 
tion, all  of  which  have  to  find  shelter  in  this  Rocky 
Mountain  Welbeck  Abbey,  where  the  famous  large  Gothio 
hall,  the  great  dining-room,  the  ball-roora,  the  drawing- 
room,  the  riding- school,  the  miles  of  subterranean  passages, 
and  the  rest  of  its  wonders,  are  all  thrown  into  one,  and 
sight-seeing  can  be  done  without  moving  from  your  robe 
bed  or  gunpowder-keg  seat.  For  the  reader  must  not  forget 
that  this  narrow  space  is  at  once  sitting-room,  bedchamber, 
kitchen,  harness,  and  gunroom  ;  that  the  beds,  consisting 
of  bear  and  buffalo  skins,  have  to  be  spread  where  the 
tablecloth,  a  waterproof  sheet,  was  laid ;  that  the  hole  in 
the  doorway,  where  the  smoke  ought  to  go  out,  is  continually 
getting  blocked  by  snow,  and  hence  that  a  recumbent 
position  is,  as  long  as  the  fire  bums,  the  only  one  where 
you  do  no  more  than  cry  and  cough,  the  more  being  death 
from  suffocation.  He  can  picture  to  himself  the  amenities 
of  life  while  a  snowstorm  is  raging  without,  and  probably 
consider  my  invitation  to  '*  creep  in  "  (I  cannot  say  '*  walk 
in  ")  the  height  of  presumption.  But  Western  manners, 
while  hearty  and  full  of  welcome  to  the  stranger,  are 
lacking  in  patrician  polish;  so  make  yourself  at  home,  and 
take  a  seat — or  rather,  stretch  yourself  with  smoking-room 
abandon  on  yonder  pile  of  fur  robes ;  for  the  only  chair-like 
article  in  our  dwelling,  the  powder  keg,  is  occupied  by  a 
busy  author,  plying  his  pen  in  front  of  a  novel  species  of 
camp  writing-table,  made  of  the  liorns  of  a  wapiti,  the  end 
prongs  stuck  in  the  ground,  and  a  piece  of  dry,  raw  hide 
stretched  across  the  middle  tines,  in  lieu  of  the  green-baize- 
covered   and  blotting-pad-supplied  article.     Our   electric 


Winter  Campii  and  Indian  Camps,        263 

Brush-light  is  furnished  hy  a  "devil/*  a  shallow,  iron 
basin  filled  with  elk  tallow,  with  a  rope- end  as  wick. 

An  eight  days'  heavy  snow  hurricane  is  a  very  stern 
truth -teller,  and  makes  us  for  the  moment  forget  that  our 
habitation's  chief  merits — warmth  in  winter  and  coolness 
in  summer — are  amply  counterbalanced  by  its  failings,  its 
uncommonly  annoying  dust-producing  qualities,  and  such 
minor  disadvantages  as  the  fact  that  it  is  hardly  ever  clear 
of  the  smoke  produced  by  the  open  fire  in  the  centre  of 
the  floor,  and  that,  on  account  of  its  smallness,  it  is  apt  to 
cro\^  d  the  "  outfit." 

It  is  the  latter  half  of  November,  and  the  locality  a 
canyon  in  the  unexplored  Sierra  Soshone ;  altitude  8000 
feet;  surroundings,  a  white  pall  that  covers  peak  and 
forest,  lake  and  gulch  ;  thermometer  35°  below  zero  Fahr. ; 
distance  to  the  next  white  man's  habitation,  105  miles ;  date 
of  the  newest  newspaper,  September  2.  For  nearly  half 
a  year  our  eyes  have  not  feasted  on  a  civilized  female 
face  ;  last  news  from  the  outside  world,  95°  Fahr.  in  the 
shade  in  New  York. 

It  would  be  idle  to  describe  how  all  the  outfit  found  room 
in  this  box-like  home.  It  is  not  the  first  or  the  second 
time,  but  perhaps  by  the  experience  of  a  dozen  trials,  that 
you  and  your  men  succeed  in  getting  everything  into  it. 
To  store  the  flour  sacks  where  no  driving  snow  can  get  at 
them ;  to  pile  the  saddles  and  the  bales  of  valuable  beaver, 
otter,  and  grey  wolves*  skins  upon  each  other  without  their 
toppling  over;  to  put  your  coffee  and  sugar  where  the 
ever- falling  dust  from  your  loam  roof  cannot  find  them"^ 
to  hang  up  the  wet  garments  and  soaking  saddle  blankets 
where  they  are  least  in  the  way  ;  to  find  room  for  the 
cooking-utensils  and  the  water-bucket ;  to  discover  a  snug 


264  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

comer  for  tlie  dogs ;  and,  finally,  to  plan  out  space  enough 
for  yourself  and  the  men  to  move  about  in — this,  and  a 
lot  more,  can  only  be  learnt  by  long  experience,  no  easier  to 
acquire  and  no  less  useful  than  the  knack  of  making  a  dug- 
out with  but  one  spade  and  one  pick,  with  the  ground  frozen 
to  the  consistency  of  lead,  and  a  snowstorm  just  setting  in 
preceded  by  an  intensely  cold  wind  freezing  out  of  the 
shivering  snow-soaked  mortals  almost  the  last  vital  spark. 
If  you  still  add  that  the  "  boss  '*  or  master  is  afflicted 
with  cacoethes  scribendi,  or,  as  his  buffalo- coated  com- 
panions put  it,  "  is  kinder  partial  to  ink-slinging  ^' — the 
raison  d'etre  of  aforesaid  stag's-head  writing-table,  and  the 
somewhat  riskful  position  of  the  powder  keg,  containing 
more  than  sufficient  to  send  the  whole  shebang  with  Jack- 
in-the-box-like  effect  to  kingdom  come — the  public  will 
appreciate,  I  am  of  course  vain  enough  to  suppose,  the 
value  of  lines  penned,  as  these  are,  under  such  peculiar 
circumstances  and  among  not  less  peculiar  surroundings, 
and  jotted  down  not  with  an  ordinary  pen,  but  with  the 
self-trimmed  quill  of  a  big  eagle,  and  with  ink  made  not 
as  other  mortals*  is,  but  of  vermilion  paint  diluted  with 
water. 

Outside  the  dug-out,  if  you  dare  put  your  nose  out  of 
the  entrance  hole,  which  is  covered  curtain-like  by 
an  elk-skin,  the  snow  hurricane  is  howling,  and  from 
the  gaunt  giant  cottonwood-trees  that  line  the  creek, 
massive  branches  are  dismally  rattling  down.  How 
lucky  we  are ;  how  fortunate  we  must  consider  ourselves 
in  our  warm  dug-out,  sheltered  from  snow  and  cold ! 
Look  yonder  at  that  patch  of  leafless  willows,  behind 
which  our  poor  horses  are  huddled  together,  their  heads 
low,  and  their  flanks  gaunt  with  hunger.     Poor  faithful 


Winter  Camps  and  Indian  Camps.         265 

brutes,  they  have  had  of  late  some  terribly  rough  times^ 
long  marches  through  deep  snow,  heavy  packs,  and  little 
food  ;  for  the  winter  in  these  regions  set  in  unprecedently 
early,  and  with  unprecedented  vigour.  With  snow  two 
feet  deep,  and  continual  storms  such  as  none  of  my  men 
had  ever  before  experienced,  the  sun-dried  buffalo  grass 
could  not  be  got  at  very  easily  by  the  patiently-pawing 
animals ;  in  fact,  many  a  night  have  the  poor  beasts 
passed  huddled  together  behind  sheltering  rocks  or 
bunches  of  willow,  not  daring  to  stir  out  into  the  open 
where  the  scanty  grass  grew.  More  than  surprising  is 
the  wonderful  stamina  of  these  animals.  Reared  in  the 
country,  they  have  never  seen  the  inside  of  a  stable,  and 
know  not  what  grain  is.  The  cold  has,  therefore,  to  be  of 
the  very  severest  to  prevent  them  seeking  their  wonted 
pasturage.  I  was  out  the  preceding  winter,  travelling 
with  the  same  horses  and  two  of  the  men ;  but  though  in 
the  opinion  of  Westerners  the  winter  of  1879-80  was  a 
bad  one,  it  could  not  compare  with  the  extremes  of  that 
following.  November,  especially  the  latter  part  of  the 
month,  was  particularly  severe ;  and  on  six  different  oc- 
casions did  the  mercury  congeal  in  my  thermometer, 
which  it  does  only  at  71°  of  frost.  At  that  time,  too,  we 
had  no  warm  dug-o%it,  and  not  even  a  tent,  to  shelter  us, 
but  had  to  "  sleep  out,'^  with  nothing  but  our  robes  and 
sail-cloth  bed  covers  to  protect  us  against  the  exceptional 
inclemencies  of  the  weather ;  for  though  we  had  a  tent 
with  us  part  of  the  time,  the  gales  sweeping  over  the  barren 
highlands  through  which  we  were  then  travelling  were  far 
too  severe  to  allow  us  to  put  it  up;  while,  if  the  hurricane 
did  moderate,  we  were  generally  so  dead  beat  when  at  a 
late  hour  we  pitched  our  camp,  that  nothing  but  the  most 


a66  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

imperative  necessity  could  summon  us  to  activity.  To 
shovel  snow  for  hours  at  a  time,  or  to  wield  the  heavy  axa 
in  relays,  breaking  trails  through  the  dense  expanse  of 
dead  timber,  where  trunks,  fortunately  of  no  very  great 
size,  lie  thick  across  and  over  each  other,  is  a  time-robbing 
and  most  fatiguing  job. 

As  I  have  said,  an  '*  eight-dayer  "  was  raging  outside, 
and  we  were  beginning  to  doubt  very  strongly  whether 
the  majority  of  our  horses  could  live  through  the  ordeal. 
Poor  things !  we  had  nothing  to  give  them.  Flour  was 
running  very  low  with  us,  and  that  was  about  all  we  did 
have,  save  some  sugar  and  coffee. 

Quite  close  to  us  there  was  camped  a  large  hunting-party 
of  Soshones,  who,  in  small  batches  of  five  or  six  hucksy  were 
in  the  habit  of  dropping  in  on  friendly  visits.  We  were 
on  the  best  of  terms,  for  since  they  had  discovered  that 
it  was  easier  to  hunt  dead  deer  than  live  ones,  I  had 
saved  them  a  lot  of  precious  Sharp  and  Winchester 
repeating-rifle  ammunition.  When  I  shot  anything  they 
knew  they  were  welcome  to  the  most  of  the  meat,  and 
to  what  they  were  particularly  anxious  to  secure,  namely, 
**  buckskin,''  which  with  them,  dressed  in  different  man- 
ners, is  quite  as  essential  as  linen,  cotton  fabrics,  and 
leather  are  to  more  civilized  people.  The  Indians  of  the 
United  States  as  a  rule  are  very  indifferent  shots  with  the 
rifle,  and  to  see  three  or  four  bucks  hunting,  or  rather 
running,  Wupiti  or  Mule-deer  is  a  very  ludicrous  sight,  dis- 
illusioning all  one's  romantic  notions  about  Indian  Nim rod- 
ship.  With  the  bow  and  arrow  it  was  something  else;  there 
was  no  report — in  which,  it  must  be  mentioned,  they  all 
take  a  boyish  delight — and  of  course  they  had  to  approach 
game  much  closer,  and  do  it  in  a  veiy  stealthy  manner. 


Winter  Camps  and  Indian  CarnpA.        267 

I  never  heard  somucli  shooting  and  saw  so  little  hitting 
as  I  did  in  the  month  we  were  right  among  these  perfectly 
wild  Indians.  Often  I  have  counted  fifteen  shots  to  one 
poor  deer ;  and  there  would  be  more  shouting  and  waving 
of  arms,  and  riding  at  full  split  up  and  down  the  most 
amazingly  steep  slopes,  than  would  supply  an  evening's 
entertainment  at  a  circus.  We  had  got  to  the  place  a  day 
or  two  before  the  Indians,  and  found  great  herds  of  Wapiti 
and  Mule-deer  roaming  over  the  isolated  highlands. 
Wherever  one  looked  there  was  game.  A  fortnight 
afterwards  I  was  actually  a  whole  day  vainly  endeavour- 
ing to  replenish  our  larder.  Then  the  storm  and  cold 
"  snap  "  came,  and  for  a  week  it  was  anything  but  pleasant 
to  stir  out.  Through  stress  of  weather  game  was  pressed 
down  from  higher  and  more  exposed  regions,  so  that  when 
we  could  again  pursue  our  various  duties  and  pleasures 
there  was  a  fresh  supply  of  buckskin. 

Some  of  the  Indians  were  great  fun.  I  remember 
particularly  one  or  two,  i.e.  Old  Secundum,  a  podgy  old 
pasha,  with  as  wonderful  an  assortment  of  squaws  and 
papooses,  ponies  and  dogs,  bits  of  civilized  finery  of  the 
most  outlandish  nature,  and  Indian  curios,  as  you  could 
wish  to  meet.  He  was  a  vain  old  Indian,  and  one  of  our 
best  customers  for  paint ;  and  moreover,  he  had  been 
bitten  by  the  white  man's  love  for  trading.  Day  after 
day  the  old  dog  would  come  slouching  down  to  our  dug- 
out  J  and  after  a  friendly  "  how  how  "  sit  down  at  our  camp 
fireside,  and  give  us  an  amicable  grin  all  round.  Then  the 
heavy  blanket  that  shrouded  the  portly  form  of  the  old 
gentleman  would  be  unfolded,  and  there  would  be  pro- 
duced some  article  for  "  heap  trade."  He  would  proceed 
to  inform  us  that  the  "  man  with  the  split  body  "  (that 


268  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

being  my  name  with  the  Indians)  had  **  heap  paint," ' 
but  "  Secundum  had  heap  beaver  skin/'  and  so  the  trade 
would  commence.  When  his  few  English  words  failed 
him,  and  our  Soshone  gave  out,  and  finger-talk  provided 
no  aid,  then  would  commence  the  tug  of  the  trade,  and 
many  a  hearty  laugh  on  our  part  and  a  stoical  grin  on  his 
would  enliven  the  dreary  hours. 

They  were  all  well-behaved  Indians — some,  it  is  true, 
more  so  than  others.  Thus,  for  instance,  a  few  of  the 
huck^  made  a  practice  of  coming  regularly  at  meal  times, 
the  coffee,  of  which  they  are  passionately  fond,  being  the 
main  attraction.  But  most  of  them  would  just  peep  in, 
and  if  they  saw  that  we  were  at  our  dinner  they  would  wait 
outside  till  we  had  done.  In  the  eyes  of  my  men,  who 
were  poisoning  wolves,  they  were,  however,  arrant  thieves, 
for  they  habitually  followed  their  tracks  and  picked  up 
the  poisoned  bait,  using  it  for  their  own  purposes  in 
another  part  of  the  country.  There  were  a  great  many 
wolves,  the  common  as  well  as  the  far  larger  and  more 
valuable  grey  or  silver  species,  about;  hence  long  "strings'* 
of  poison  ^  would  be  laid  by  the  men ;  but  generally  by  the 
following  morning  they  had  all  mysteriously  disappeared, 

•  Seapt  signifying  much,  is  one  of  the  few  English  words  nearly 
all  Indians  know.  I  once  heard  of  a  ludicrous  application.  Walking 
up  to  where  one  of  the  commanding  oflBcers,  with  his  wife — a  very 
stout  lady — was  standing,  a  reservation  Indian  addressed  them,  with 
the  usual  greeting :  "  How  how,"  and  presently,  without  any  further 
introduction,  remarked,  pointing  pointblank  at  the  lady  :  "  That  heap 
heap  squaw  !  '* 

*  There  are  two  ways  of  using  poison  (strychnine) ;  either  to  poison 
a  whole  carcass,  or  to  take  a  number  of  medium-sized  chunks  of  meat, 
poison  each,  and  while  riding  along,  drop  piec«  after  piece  about  a 
hundred  yards  between  each.     This  latter  is  called  stringing  poison. 


Winter  Camps  and  Indian  Camps,        269 

And  no  victims  were  to  be  seen.  Watching  the  men  as  they 
laid  it,  it  was  easy  enough  for  the  Indians  to  follow,  and 
remove  the  bait  to  other  places  which  they  alone  knew. 

Speaking  of  poison,  I  may  as  well  here  mention,  that 
under  circumstances  it  proves  a  more  profitable,  and 
always  a  more  useful  occupation,  than  trapping.  Wolves 
do  an  enormous  amount  of  damage  to  game  ;  indeed,  the 
big  grey  wolf  is  quite  a  formidable  fellow  to  look  at 
(weighing  fifty  and  sixty  pounds),  though  it  never 
troubles  human  beings.  In  frontier  country  nearer  civili- 
zation, they  commit  great  ravages  among  the  calves,  so 
that  all  the  Territorial  legislatures  pay  head-money  for 
wolves,  varying  from  three  to  six  shillings.  In  Wyoming 
it  was  then  four  shillings  ($1) ;  and  as  the  skin  besides  is 
worth,  of  the  common  wolf  four  shillings,  and  of  the  grey 
twelve  shillings,  a  big  haul  of  wolf-skins  is  quite  as  profit- 
able a  catch  as  trapping  beaver,  which  is  a  far  more  uncer- 
tain business.  In  the  different  Territories  the  head-money 
used  to  be  paid  not  on  the  same,  but  on  different  trophies. 
Thus  in  Wyoming  the  right  fore -paw  had  to  be  produced  j 
in  Colorado,  the  scalp  with  the  two  ears ;  in  others  the 
left  fore-paw,  and  formerly  also  the  tail.  Stories  are 
told  of  unscrupulous  old  trappers  who  got  head-money 
twice  or  three  times  over  on  one  animal,  by  presenting  the 
scalp  in  one,  the  paw  in  the  other,  and  the  tail  in  the 
third  Territory,  or  by  turning  the  left  front-paw  into  a 
right  front-paw,  by  dexterously  skinning  it  and  tr0,nsfer- 
ring  the  "  dewcluw,"  or  false  claw,  from  the  right  to  the 
left  side,  and  then  drawing  the  skin  again  over  it,  effec- 
tually hiding,  particularly  in  a  dried  condition,  all  traces 
of  the  doctoring.  Where  wolves  are  "  thick,''  i.e.  where 
there  are  many,  both  methods  of  applying  the  strychnine 


270  Camps  m  the  Rockies. 

are  emplo}pd.  Now  and  again  more  than  a  dozen  wolvei 
(the  men  once  got  sixteen)  will  be  found  /ound  one  car- 
cass. Death,  particularly  if  the  stomach  is  empty,  which 
is  mostly  the  case^  is  very  rapid.  On  moonlight  nights  I 
have  on  one  or  two  occasions  watched  the  action  of  the 
poison.  It  is  as  rapid  as  strangulation,  hence  on  the 
whole  is  less  cruel  than  shooting,  for  there  are  no  wounded 
and  crippled  to  die  a  lingering  death. 

Indians — to  return  to  them  again — are  very  curious, 
and  my  Express  rifle  was  an  object  of  great  interest, 
affording  us  vast  amusement  on  the  two  or  three  occasions 
that  I  let  them  try  it,  for  by  a  little  artifice  I  managed  it 
so  that  both  barrels  went  off"  simultaneously,  producing  an 
immense  recoil  sufficient  to  knock  down  a  grizzly ; '  and 
to  see  a  stoical  straight-backed  old  buck  sent  a  clean 
summersault  backward  was  too  ludicrous  a  sight,  and  only 
to  be  likened  to  a  pompous  old  alderman,  clothed  in  a 
breech  clout,  and  an  old  blanket  tightly  drawn  about  his 
back,  shrouding,  but  not  hiding  his  well-developed  form, 
suddenly  turning  head  over  heels.  As  the  victim  picked 
himself  up — entirely  ignorant,  of  course,  of  the  trick — with 
all  the  inbred  seriousness  of  his  race  he  would  pronounce 
the  Express,  the  '*  heap  boss  gun  of  the  man  with  the  split 
body  to  be  big  medicine."  A  similar  notable  reputation 
for  "  big  medicine  "  I  once  gained  by  administering  to  a 

•  Both  triggers  cjould  be  set  to  hair  triggers,  and  by  firing  one 
barrel  while  the  other  was  set,  the  concussion  would  make  it  go  off 
too,  the  lightness  of  the  rifle  and  the  double  charge  of  about  eleven 
drachms,  or  about  310  grains  of  powder,  producing  an  overwhelmingly 
formidable  recoil.  Through  inadvertence  I  tried  it  on  myself  once 
or  twice,  and  it  knocked  me  clean  out  of  my  saddle,  much  to  the  astc 
nishment  of  Boreas. 


Winter  Camps  and  Indian  Camps.        271 

very  livery-looking  ArrappaLoe  a  gigantic  dose  of  six 
pills. 

Another  Soshone,  a  good-looking  young  huck,  called 
"  Powder  in  the  Hand  "  by  his  comrades,  though  he  had 
another  quite  unpronounceable  Indian  name,  managed  to 
fool  us  in  good  style.  He  had  served  on  a  short  Indian 
campaign  as  assistant  scout  to  some  troops,  and  had  learnt 
English,  not  only  to  understand  it,  but  to  speak  it.  When 
we  first  saw  him  he  shook  his  head  in  the  usual  fashion 
when  I  addressed  him  in  English,  letting  it  appear  as  if 
he  understood  not  a  single  word  of  it.  For  a  fortnight 
he  had  been  constantly  coming  round  to  us,  generally 
when  there  was  some  trade  or  other  on,  and  on  one  or 
two  occasions  I  noticed  that  secret  signs  passed  between 
him  and  his  companion,  whoever  it  happened  to  be,  and 
that  always  on  these  occasions  the  little  trade  between  the 
men  and  the  Indians  was  a  stiff  one,  convincing  me  that 
he  understood  English.  A  little  catch  I  prepared  for  him 
proved  successful,  and  "  Powder  in  the  hand  "  was  found 
to  be  quite  a  scholar.  Indians  are  very  apt  to  hide  their 
knowledge  of  English  if  they  think  it  can  serve  them ; 
and  caution  in  this  respect  under  certain  circumstances  is 
very  advisable. 

Indian  philosophy  is  of  a  primitive,  though  not  unprac- 
tical character.  It  consists,  so  far  as  his  daily  life  is  con- 
cerned, in  the  dogma  of,  /  want  it,  or  I  don't  want  it.  If 
he  wants  a  thing  he  will  do  his  best,  give  almost  his  all, 
risk  his  own  skin,  and  tell  the  greatest  lies,  to  acquire  it. 
If  he  is  short  of  ammunition  when  setting  out  on  his 
**  fall,"  or  winter  hunt,  he  will  trade  a  handsome  Indian- 
worked  buffalo  robe,  worth  at  least  3/.,  for  cartridges  worth 
as  many  sixpences.     When  he  comes  back  from  his  hunt, 


272  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

a  cupful  of  coffee  or  sugar  will  often  obtain  the  same 
trade.  A  horse  worth  10/.,  which  at  the  beginning  of  the 
hunt  he  would  not  give  you  for  three  times  that  amount  of 
money  in  the  most  cherished  articles  of  trade,  he  will  give 
you  for  less  than  a  tenth  on  his  return.  This  is  the  main 
reason  why  Indians,  who  often  own  a  number  of  valuable 
horses,  never  seem  to  accumulate  wealth  in  kind.  Though 
the  word  nomadic  Indian  is,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  a 
grossly  misapplied  term  for  the  Aborigines  of  North 
America,  this  getting  rid,  at  a  ruinous  loss,  of  anything 
and  everything  when  they  no  longer  have  immediate  use 
for  it,  and  paying  exorbitantly  for  what,  at  the  moment, 
they  may  happen  to  want,  is  yet  a  characteristic  of  all 
nomadic  races,  and  is  opposed  to  all  principles  of  mature 
civilization. 

While  among  the  Soshon^s,  old  Secundum  brought  us 
rather  unpleasant  news,  namely,  that  the  neighbouring 
tribe  of  Arrappahoes  were  on  the  war-path — news  which 
one  of  his  hucli%  had  brought  him,  and  which  seemed  to 
be  confirmed  by  the  fact  of  a  party  of  Crow  Indians 
having  passed  us  a  short  time  before  on  their  way  to 
Black-Coal,  the  Arrappahoe  chief,  with  some  fresh  Sioux 
scalps  as  an  intertribal  offering  to  secure  the  co-operation 
of  him  and  his  tribe.  As  our  course  to  the  nearest  Fort, 
the  only  way  to  get  out  of  the  mountain  wilderness  we 
were  in,  lay  for  nearly  a  hundred  miles  through  the 
Arrappahoe  hunting  country,  the  outlook  was  not  the 
very  pleasantest.  The  truth,  however,  was  not  as  bad 
as  the  alarm,  though  it  precipitated  our  return.  On 
the  tenth  day,  after  the  most  trying  short  journey  that  I 
ever  remember,  we  at  last  sighted  the  sno wed-up  Fort 
"Washakie,  which  we  had  left  the  preceding  July,  when 


Winter  Camps  and  Indian  Camps,        273 

the  thermometer  was  up  in  the  nineties.  The  cold  was 
very  great,  quite  equal  to  that  of  the  Arctic  regions; 
worse  still  was  the  wind,  requiring  constant  care  to  pre- 
vent frostbite.  And  as  at  the  time  we  had  no  tent,  and 
simply  slept  on  and  under  our  buffalo  robes  on  the  snow, 
the  hardships  of  that  trip  were,  quite  in  consequence 
of  the  unprecedented  cold  and  storms,  of  an  unusual 
kind. 

To  one  incident  of  these  ten  days  I  would  desire  to 
refer,  as  showing  the  Indian  character  and  the  incredibly 
miserable  position  of  the  squaws,  upon  which  so  many 
writers  have  dilated.  We  were  within  a  day  or  two's 
travel  of  the  Fort,  and  late  at  night,  after  a  perishingly 
cold  ride,  reached  the  banks  of  the  Big  Wind  River,  at 
one  of  the  few  fords,  intending  to  cross  it  as  best  we 
could  the  following  morning.  We  were  saddling  up  our 
wretched,  emaciated  horses  at  an  early  hour  of  the  terribly 
cold  morning — during  the  night  the  mercury  had  congealed 
in  my  thermometer,  so  that  there  must  have  been,  at  the 
least,  seventy-one  degrees  of  frost,  and  the  dismal  aspect 
of  the  snow-clad  unutterably  dreary  bad-land  scenery 
needed  not  the  fine  powdery  snow  driving  before  the  wind 
to  make  it  peculiarly  depressing — when  an  Indian  with  his 
squaw,  driving  before  them  some  ten  or  twelve  miserably 
thin  horses,  packed  with  their  usual  lares  et  penates,  passed 
us,  and  proceeded  to  cross  the  river.  As  we  thought  it 
likely  that  they  knew  the  exact  spot  of  the  ford,  I  went 
to  watch  them  take  the  water. 

It  was  about  as  nasty  a  crossing  as  ever  I  saw. 
The  Wind  River  is  at  all  times  a  vary  dangerous 
stream,  for  its  great  fall  and  the  vast  volume  of  water 
that  fills  it  in  early  summer,  change  the  bed  from  year  to 

T 


274  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

year — nay,  from  month,  to  month.  Where  you  were  able 
to  ford  in  September,  you  will  find  in  October  deep  water 
and  most  dangerous  under -currents  or  quicksands.  Now, 
though  it  was  at  the  lowest,  the  ice  had  raised  fresh 
obstacles.  Fancy  a  river  as  broad  as  the  Thames  at  Hamp- 
ton Court  running  in  the  centre  as  swift  as  a  mill  sluice,  so 
rapid  that  eFen  the  Arctic  cold  could  not  subdue  it,  while 
on  both  sides,  where  it  ran  slower,  ice  to  a  thickness  of  at 
least  eighteen  inches  or  two  feet  had  been  formed.  Stand- 
ing on  the  brink  of  this  bank  of  solid  ice  you  had  before 
you  the  gurgling,  rushing,  dark  green  current,  in  the 
shape  of  a  gulf  some  forty  yards  in  width,  without  the 
slightest  clue  as  to  its  depth.  It  was,  under  the  circum- 
stances, as  uninviting  a  plunge  on  this  terribly  cold  day 
as  could  well  be  imagined.  The  squaw,  a  good-looking 
young  creature,  was  ahead,  astride  of  a  pony,  while  the 
buck  was  in  the  rear,  *'  whooping  "  the  animals  along  at 
a  fast  pace.  In  her  arms,  suspended  by  a  broad  band, 
she  held  a  miserable  morsel  of  humanity,  wrapped  in  a 
wolf  skin ;  it  was  a  baby,  apparently  only  a  week  or  two 
old.*  On  getting  on  to  the  firm  ice  she  slackened  up, 
proceeding  at  a  walk,  for  it  was  very  slippery.  On 
getting  close  to  the  brink  of  the  yawning  gulf  of  water 
she  evidently  began  to  be  afraid,  and  pulling  up  her 
pony,  looked  back  at  her  lord  and  master  with  a  pleading 
look — quite  merited  by  the  aspect  of  the  river  in  front  of 
her,  gurgHng  and  splashing  past  her  with  great  velocity. 
But  there  was  little  chivalry  or  mercy  in  the  stolid-faced 
Arrappahoe  buck.      Without  saying  a  word,  he  simply 

*  Quite  young  babies  are  held  in  the  arms,  for  obvious  reasons, 
while  when  they  are  a  few  months  old  they  are  strapped  to  a  smali 
board  and  carried  by  the  mothers  on  their  backs. 


Winter  Camps  and  Indian  Lamps,        275 

stretched  out  his  arm  in  a  commanding  field-marshal-like 
gesture,  and  the  wretched  woman  knew  she  had  to  pro- 
ceed. Laying  her  punishing  "  quirt "  or  whip  about  her 
shrinking  pony,  she  forced  him  to  plunge  from  the  ice 
step  into  the  current.  But  the  water  was  deeper  than 
she  expected,  and  the  horse  turned  a  summersault  and 
was  swept  away  by  the  rushing  water.  The  wretched 
woman  had,  of  course,  lost  her  seat,  and  though  she  had 
still  hold  of  the  reins,  there  was  every  chance  of  her 
getting  drowned.  With  a  yell  the  huck  had  run  his 
horse  at  full  speed  (it  was  unshod  of  course,  as  all  Indian 
ponies  are)  along  the  ice  bank,  and  long  before  I  could 
reach  the  bend  of  the  river,  where  I  fancied  I  could  aid 
her,  he  was  there,  and  amid  a  volley  of  Arrappahoe 
helped  the  squaw  out — by  this  time  she  had  let  go  of  the 
reins — and  taking  her  up  on  his  own  horse,  plunged  again 
into  the  river,  and  in  two  or  three  minutes  had  got  across 
safely.  On  reaching  the  opposite  bank,  she  slid  down  from 
the  horse ;  while  he,  apparently  far  more  anxious  about 
the  pony  than  on  her  account,  galloped  down  the  stream, 
and  finally  managed  to  get  out  the  struggling  horse  at  a 
point  where  there  was  no  ice  to  speak  of  on  the  pebble- 
strewn  bank.  The  whole  thing  was  over  in  seven  or  eight 
minutes,  but  it  was  sufficiently  long  to  turn  the  poor 
woman,  who  was  fondling  the  screaming  baby,  into  a 
column  of  ice,  and  by  the  time  the  rest  of  the  ponies  were 
got  across  by  the  buck,  the  folds  of  the  heavy  blanket — 
her  only  clothing  except  a  buckskin  under- garment — were 
frozen  so  stiff  as  to  impede  her  movements  when  she  re- 
mounted her  pony  to  proceed  to  some  brushwood,  where 
rising  smoke  soon  showed  that  the  miserable  creature  was 
drying  or  changing  her  blanket  toilet. 

T  2 


276  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

When,  three  or  four  hours  latei»«#.for  we  were  more 
cautious  in  selecting  aford,  though  the  water  even  then  came 
up  to  our  saddles — we  passed  the  place  where  the  Indiana 
had  halted,  they  had  already  left,  I  suppose  not  much  the 
worse  for  that  bath  with  the  thermometer  down  to  fifty 
degrees  of  frost.  Frederick  the  Great's  dictum,  //  faui 
trailer  son  corps  en  canaille,  is,  as  we  have  seen,  very 
generally  acted  upon  by  these  hardy  tribes  of  the  North- 
West. 

On  reaching  the  fort — the  first  habitation  I  had  seen 
for  five  months — we  were  hailed,  by  those  who  knew  that 
we  still  were  out,  as  risen  from  the  dead. 

I  have  been  so  often  asked  what  an  Indian  "  reservation  " 
is,  that  I  fancy  a  very  brief  explanation  of  this  term 
will  be  useful.  A  reservation  is  a  vast  tract  of  country 
"  given  "  to,  i.e,  secured  by  solemn  treaty  to,  one  or  more 
tribes.  On  this  land  whites  are  supposed  not  to  mine,  or 
settle,  or  build  houses,  or  hunt  or  trap  game.  There  are 
laws  to  this  efiect ;  but  as  the  land  is  a  perfect  wilderness, 
and  the  boundaries  are  on  paper  or  on  maps,  and  those 
papers  or  maps  are  securely  locked  up  in  the  Indian  OflBce 
at  Washington,  and  as,  finally,  there  is  nobody  deputed  to 
see  to  the  enforcement  of  this  law,  the  military  forces  not 
being  used  for  this  purpose,  nothing  but  the  fear  of  a 
sudden  Indian  rising  can  restrain  the  white  man,  be  he 
mining  prospector,  rancheman,  hunter,  or  trapper,  from 
ancroaching  upon  the  red  man's  property  leading — for  fron- 
tiersmen like  some  risk — to  reprisals  and  counter-reprisals. 
This,  together  with  the  concomitant  results  of  nefarious 
cheating  on  the  part  of  white  man  generally,  is,  in  broad 
outline,  the  usual  cause  of  the  frequent  Indian  wars — a 
topic  upon  which  very  nearly  aU  authors  on  the  West 


Winter  Camps  and  Indian  Camps,        277 

have  theorized.  With  the  reader^s  permission  I  will  make 
an  exception. 

The  Washakie  (or  Soshone,  or  Snake  Indian)  reservation 
is  as  large  as  a  good- sized  kingdom.  The  Agency, 
where  reside  the  few  Government  officials  whose  business 
it  is  to  look  after  the  Indians,  and  carry  out  the  stipulations 
of  the  treaty  in  the  way  of  distributing  blankets,  flour, 
&c.,  among  the  tribe,  is  in  the  centre,  protected  by  the 
Fort ;  and  well  may  it  be  protected^  at  least  among  the  few 
remaining  wild  tribes,  for  the  residents  are  usually  the  first  to 
fall  victims  to  a  sudden  outbreak.  Only  the  year  before,  at 
the  next  reservation,  that  of  the  Utes,  the  whole  Agency  was 
murdered,  and  the  females  carried  off.  The  reservation  I 
am  speaking  of  is  shared  by  the  two  tribes — the  Soshon^s 
and  the  Arrappahoes.  The  former  have  long  been  a  very 
peaceful  tribe,  chiefly  owing,  it  must  be  mentioned,  to  the 
sage  advice  of  their  old  chief — the  famous  Washakie,  in 
appearance  one  of  the  most  characteristic  patriarchal 
braves  of  the  old  school.  Since  1863,  when  the  tribe 
experienced  a  severe  ''whipping"  at  the  hands  of  the  troops, 
white  man  has  not  been  injured  by  them.  The  Arrappa- 
hoes, on  the  contrary,  with  whom  they  are  not  on  the 
best  of  terms,  are  to-day,  next  to  the  Appaches  of  the 
South,  the  most  unsettled  and  dangerous  of  the  Red- 
skins. Only  the  year  before,  my  party  had  been  made 
aware  of  this  in  an  unpleasant  manner.  However,  this 
time,  owing  to  several  circumstances,  we  remained  on 
good  '*  how  how  "  terms  with  the  young  hucks^  who, 
as  a  rule,  are  the  most  eager  to  go  out  a*  harvesting  glory 
and  solitary  white  men's  hair. 

The  greater  part  of  the  year  only  a  small  portion  of 
the  two  tribes^  mostly  the  old  and  decrepit,  are  near  the 


278  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

Agency,  their  skin  or  canvas  teeppees  or  tentlike  wigwama 
dotting  the  broad  mountain-girt  Plain  surrounding  the 
Agency. 

Owing  to  the  severity  of  the  weather  we  found  on  reach- 
ing Washakie  the  greater  portion  of  the  Indians  camped 
in  the  immediate  neighbourhood;  among  them  Black 
Coaly  the  Arrappahoe  chief,  with  a  portion  of  his  tribe, 
just  in  from  their  fall  or  winter  hunt,  brought  to  an  early 
termination  by  the  exceptional  cold. 

Many  of  the  younger  huck^  had,  however,  absented 
themselves  on  French  leave,  and  were  now  supposed  to  be 
engaged  in  a  miniature  war  of  their  own,  though  nothing 
certain  was  known.  Having  a  lot  of  paint  left,  and 
wanting  some  Indian  trifles  to  take  home  with  me,  I  had 
my  presence  announced  to  Black  Coal,  and  received  a  polite 
invite  to  his  big  teeppee  or  wigwam.  I  knew  him  from  a 
former  occasion,  but  was  curious  to  see  him  in  his 
chieftain's  home.  The  Arrappahoe  language  is  the  most 
difficult  of  all  Indian  tongues ;  indeed,  it  is  said  that  two 
Arrappahoes  cannot  perfectly  understand  each  other  in 
the  dark — that  is,  without  the  aid  of  finger  talk,  or  language 
of  signs  common  to  nearly  all  Indians  of  North  America, 
and  of  which  all  genuine  trappers  understand  the  rudiments. 
Black  Coal — whose  name  is  derived  from  the  circumstance 
that  after  a  sanguinary  victory  over  the  Utes,  when  he  lost 
two  or  three  fingers  and  received  other  wounds,  he,  in 
commemoration,  wallowed  naked  in  the  hot  ashes  of  the 
enemy's  camp  fires  until  he  was  black  as  coal — is  not  only 
an  uncommonly  intelligent  Indian,  but  a  remarkably  jealous 

'  One  of  Harper  s  for  1881  (either  March  or  April),  contained  an 
able  account  of  this  tribe,  and  had  some  capital  and  exceptionally  good 
likenesses  of  Black  Coal  and  other  subchiefs. 


Winter  Camps  and  Indian  Camps.        279 

one.  The  morals  of  his  tribe  are,  in  strong  contrast  to 
those  of  the  Soshone,  notoriously  bad.  The  squaws  when 
quite  young  are  not  quite  as  repulsive-looking  as  Indian 
females  generally  are,  and  one  or  two  I  saw  were  swarthy 
beauties  with  piercing  black  eyes — a  feature  which  marks 
also  the  men  in  an  unusually  prominent  manner.  There  is 
a  peculiar  steel-blue  glitter  about  the  piercing  and  sloe- 
black  eyes  of  Arrappahoes  that  gives  them  an  uncommonly 
unpleasant  and  ferocious  look,  quite  wicked  enough  with- 
out the  fire  of  war  and  murder  lighting  them  up.  I  met 
several  young  hucks  who  possessed  this  steely  glitter  to 
such  a  degree  that  it  acted  on  me  like  a  snake-charmer's 
glance.     I  could  not  take  my  eyes  off  theirs. 

Black  Coal  received  me  in  the  usual  stoical  Indian 
fashion.  He  was  alone  in  the  big  chief's  teeppee  with  two 
of  his  favourite  squaws — very  superior  personages.  When 
he  saw  my  parcel  of  paints  his  face  became  more  lively. 
I  had  opened  the  waterproof  covering,  displaying  the 
Seidlitz-powder-shaped  papers  of  vermilion ;  and  evidently 
the  temptation  was  too  great,  for  he  suddenly  reached  over, 
took  up  several,  and  put  them  into  the  pocket  of  his  chief- 
tain's coat — an  old  soldier's  cape.  Now  to  allow  this  would 
have  been  madness,  for  if  ever  a  white  man  lets  a  wild 
Indian  possess  himself  of  the  proverbial  finger,  he  is  very  apt 
to  want  riot  only  the  hand,  but  also  the  body  of  the  finger's 
owner,  diffidence  being  a  word  the  sense  of  which  is 
quite  unknown  to  the  Indian.  Therefore  had  I  permitted 
this  barefaced  annexation  to  go  unchallenged,  I  might 
have  passed  a  bad  quarter  of  an  hour  at  Mr.  Black  Coars 
bands.  Understanding  English  very  fairly,  I  soon  con- 
vinced him,  chiefly,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  by  placing  my 
cocked  Colt  in  my  lap — we  were  sitting  on  mats  round  the 


28o  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

fire  on  the  floor  in  the  centre  of  the  wigwam — that  the 
paint  had  to  be  returned.  Presently  it  was.  Then  the 
trade  I  had  come  for  commenced,  and  in  exchange  for 
a  lot  of  little  trifles  of  Indian  workmanship  I  got  rid 
of  all  my  paints  but  two.  After  our  little  misunder- 
standing at  the  commencement  of  the  interview,  I  did  not 
wish  to  appear  shabby ;  so  just  before  rising  to  leave  I 
threw  the  remaining  two  paints  into  the  laps  of  the  two 
squaws  sitting  opposite  to  me,  who  with  eager  eyes  had 
followed  every  movement,  for  I  suppose  their  feminine 
vanity  had  never  been  gratified  with  the  sight  of  so  many 
paints,  which  are  as  highly  prized  by  them  as  by  their  lords. 
This  act,  done  in  the  thoughtless  heedlessness  of  the 
moment,  might  easily  have  cost  me  very  dear,  for  I  could 
not  have  given  the  chief  deadlier  insult  than  by  thus 
impugning  the  good  fame  of  his  queenly  squaws,  the 
simple  ethics  of  the  Indian  comprehending  no  other  solu- 
tion of  my  act  than  one  to  which  the  common  squaws  of  the 
tribe  were  constantly  subjected.*  With  one  bound  he  was 
on  his  legs,  and  I  am  convinced,  had  not  my  revolver 
happened  to  be  still  lying  at  my  side,  his  clutch  would 
have  been  at  my  throat  the  next  instant.  As  it  was,  he 
raised  himself  to  his  full  height,  his  eyes  glistening  with 
anger,  and  stretching  his  right  arm  out  in  the  most  im- 
perious manner,  he  pointed  with  it  to  the  entrance,  and 
exclaimed,  with  unmistakable  force,  ''  Go  !  '*  And  I  went. 
Outside  when  the  full  ludicrousness  of  the  situation  burst 
upon  me,  I  enjoyed  a  good  laugh — but  it  was  after  I  had 
put  myself  beyond  Winchester  rifle  range. 

•  The  presence  of  several  hundred  soldiers,  mostly  nnmanied  men, 
in  the  Fort,  contributed,  as  is  generally  the  case,  to  the  exceedingly  bad 
state  of  morality  among  the  Arrappahoeg. 


Winter  Camps  and  Indian  Camps.        281 

That  day  was  fated  to  be  one  of  misunderstandings. 
While  strolling  through  the  reservation,  where  the 
news  of  a  paint  Croesus  had  spread,  bringing  me  into 
contact  with  other  Arrappahoes  who  were  desirous  of 
trading,  my  attention  was  drawn  to  a  huge  old  Indian 
warrior.  Of  very  commanding  presence,  unusually  tall, 
and  of  corresponding  physical  development,  he  was  more 
like  what  fancy  generally  leads  one  to  suppose  the  Indians 
a  la  Cooper  to  be,  than  any  specimen  I  had  ever  seen. 
He  was  an  under  chief — I  forget  his  name — and,  to  judge 
from  the  very  numerous  scars  of  arrow,  knife,  and  bullet 
on  his  body  and  limbs,  he  had  seen  a  vast  deal  of  fighting. 
He  was  a  particularly  fierce-looking  old  Arrappahoe ;  his 
eagle  nose,  one  of  the  distinguishing  features  of  his  tribe, 
the  ghastly  streaks  of  bright  vermilion  on  his  face,  and 
that  deadly  steely  glisten  in  his  eyes,  gave  his  ph3^siognomy 
a  look  that  would  probably  haunt  a  nervous  person.  I  had 
exchanged  civilities  with  this  old  fellow,  and  he  was  now 
finishing  the  stump  of  my  cigar,  when  I  was  tempted  to 
enter  upon  a  more  extended  conversation,  carried  on  in 
the  sign  language,  at  which  I  am  no  great  proficient. 
The  old  fellow's  chin  was  distinguished  by  a  few  hairs 
that  started  from  his  massive  under-jaw  in  a  very  desultory 
hog-bristly  fashion.  Struck  with  this — Indjians  have,  as 
I  need  hardly  say,  no  beards — I  was  desirous  to  know  the 
cause  of  this  phenomenon.  It  was  not  an  easy  phrase  to 
frame  in  the  sign  manual  language,  and  anfortunately 
instead  of  saying,  as  I  afterwards  learnt,  "How  has  it 
come  to  pass  that  the  bravest  of  the  brave,  the  man  of  all 
men,  the  dearest  friend  I  have  among  the  *  good  hearts,' ' 

'  The  Arrappahoes  call  themselves  "  The  Good  Hearts,"  a  meaning 
lehich  is  designated  by  teaching  the  lefl  breast.     Every  tribe  has  its 


282  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

has  grown  such  a  flowing  beard  P  **  (if  I  remember  rigbtlyj 
I  counted  seventeen  bristles) — instead  of  this,  I  say,  I 
sign-talked  '^  that  his  face  was  like  a  young  maiden's,  and 
his  heart  that  of  an  old  squaw '' — about  the  most  mortally 
offensive  affront  I  could  have  offered  him.  Flinging  the 
cigar  stump,  the  pipe  of  peace,  aside,  he  started  up,  and  if 
ever  business  shone  in  a  man's  eye,  it  was  in  that  Indian's. 
Yery  fortunately  for  me,  I  was  on  this  occasion  not  alone, 
for  just  previously  a  young  Arrappahoe,  whom  we  had  met 
out  hunting,  and  whose  good  will  I  had  secured  by  a  few 
little  presents,  had  joined  me.  I  left  him  to  explain 
matters,  and  vowed  I  would  henceforth  confine  mvself  to 
such  sign  manuals  as  I  was  perfectly  sure  of — a  piece  of 
advice  I  would  humbly  offer  also  to  others. 

Of  the  languages  of  the  North  American  Indians  little 
is  known,  but  of  quite  late  years  several  men  of  science  have 
devoted  a  good  deal  of  attention  to  this  subject  Foremost 
among  them  stand  the  names  of  the  indefatigable  Powell, 
Trumbull,  Colonel  Gibbs,  and  other  philologists.  The 
perusal  of  their  most  interesting  works  filled-in  many 
puzzling  voids  in  my  own  far  more  modest  acquaintance 
with  the  subject.  Confining  myself  to  a  most  brief 
epitome  of  the  most  striking  facts,  I  shall  first  dwell  on  the 
self-interpre^ng  definition  of  all  Indian  names. 

Mills  defines  a  proper  name  to  be  a  mere  mark  put 
upon  an  individual  or  a  place,  and  of  which  it  is  the 
characteristic  property  to  be  destitute  of  meaning.  As  has 
been  pointed  out,  we  call  a  man  Williams  or  Robinson 

own  Indian  name  ;  thus  the  Soshon^s  are  known  as  "  Long  Hairs,"  and 
if  you  want  to  express  this  name,  you  pass  both  your  hands  from  the 
ears  down  to  the  breast,  as  if  passing  the  long  plaited  tresses  worn  by 
that  tribe  through  your  hands. 


Winter  Camps  and  Indian  Camps.        283 

just  as  we  put  a  number  on  a  policeman's  collar  or  turn  the 
personality  of  an  hotel  visitor  into  No.  99  or  999. 

Indian  names,  on  the  contrary,  describe  the  locality, 
sometimes  topographically  or  historically,  or  indicate  one  of 
the  natural  products  or  peculiarities  of  the  place. 

While  one  tribe  calls  the  beaver  ''  the  animal  that  fells 
trees,"  another  terms  it  "  the  beast  that  puts  its  head  out 
of  the  water,''  while  a  third  has  it  as  ''  the  sharp-toothed 
swimmer."  The  Utes  call  the  bear,  ''  the  seizor,"  or  ''  the 
hugger."  The  Senecas  speak  of  North  as  the  place  "  where 
the  sun  never  goes." 

Thus  horsBy  which  in  our  language  tells  us  nothing  about 
the  animal  it  names,  is  expressed  by  names  indicating 
"  the  beast  that  carries  on  his  back  a  living  burden,"  or 
the  "  creature  whose  hoofs  are  all  solid,*'  or  the  '^  wonder- 
ful domestic  animal  introduced  by  white  man."  Colonel 
Gibbs  *  gives  some  interesting  instances  of  the  analysis  of 
numerals  in  the  Indian  language  often  resembling  those  of 
the  Eskimo,  who  express,  for  instance,  twenty  by  one  man,  i.e. 
all  fingers  and  toes.  Regarding  concrete  nouns,  the  Indian 
languages  are  even  more  definite  in  their  expression.  The 
Indian  never  kneels ;  so  when  Elliot  translates  kneeling 
(Mark  i.  40),  the  word  which  he  was  compelled  to  form 
fiUs  a  line,  and  numbers  eleven  syllables ;  which  again,  to 
render  into  English  require  for  its  accurate  interpretation 
eight  or  ten  English  words. 

In  the  Indian  languages  economy  of  speech  is  not  prac- 
tised, though  we  must  not  mistake  economy  of  utterance 
for  economy   of  thought;  the  first  has  to  do  with  the 

•  "  Instructions  for  research  relative  to  the  Ethnology  and  Philology 
of  America,  prepared  by  the  Smithsonian  Institute." 


284  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

phonetic  constitution  of  words,  the  latter  with  the  develop- 
ment of  sentences. 

Mr.  Powell  gives  an  instance  in  the  Ponca  language 
If  one  of  this  tribe  wants  to  say  that  a  man  killed  a  rabbit, 
he  would  have  to  express  himself  thus : — The  man,  he,  one 
animate  (not  dead)  standing  (in  the  nominative  case)  pur- 
posely killed  by  shooting  an  arrow,  the  rabbit,  he,  the  one, 
animate,  sitting  (in  the  objective  case). 

In  some  Indian  languages  there  are  certain  words  used 
for  the  names  of  children  given  them  in  the  order  of 
their  birth,  so  that  the  child's  name  indicates  this  order. 

One  of  the  most  singular  features,  says  Mr.  Powell,  of 
the  Indian  languages,  is  the  fact  that  the  verb  often 
includes  within  itself  subject,  direct  object,  qualifier  and 
relation-idea — or  in  other  words,  that  the  Indian  verbs 
include  within  themselves  meanings  which  in  English  are 
expressed  by  adverbs  and  adverbial  phrases  and  clauses. 
Thus  the  verb  to  go  may  be  represented  by  a  word  signi- 
fying go  homey  or  by  another  go  from  home^  or  to  go  on 
footy  or  to  go  up  a  rivers  or  still  another,  to  go  in  a  canoe. 

In  the  Eastern,  or  Atlantic  regions,  nearly  all  the 
geographical  names  have  become  strangely  mutilated, 
and,  as  Mr.  Trumbull  remarks,  in  view  of  "the  Indian 
polysyntheses,  with  their  frequent  gutturals  and  nasals, 
it  is  hardly  possible  to  be  different.  The  river  Stcatara 
becomes  :  '  Sweet  Arrow,'  the  Popoagie :  '  Proposure,'  the 
Potopaco  :  *  Port  Tobacco.'  Nama^  anki  (the  place  for  fish) 
passes  through  'Namurack,'  'Namalake,'  and  finally  be- 
comes :  *  May  Luck.'  Moshitu-anke  (grass-land)  is  meta- 
morphosed into  :  *  Mosquito  Hawk.'  The  Canadian  Jay, 
better  known  as  'Whiskey  Jack,'  derives  its  origin 
from    Ouishcatcha."    Sometimes,   as  is  remarked  in   the 


Winter  Camps  and  Indian  Camps.         285 

same  Report,  Etymology  overreaches  itself  by  regard- 
ing an  aboriginal  name  as  the  corrupt  form  of  a 
foreign  one.  Thus  the  Mashalonge,  or  '  great  long  nose  * 
of  the  St.  Lawrence  river,  has  been  reputed  of  French 
origin — masque  elong4  ;  and  *  Sagackomi/  the  Indian  name 
for  a  substitute  for  tobacco,  has  been  derived  from  sac-a- 
commis,  on  account  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  officers  carrying  it 
in  bags  for  smoking,  as  Sir  John  Richardson  believed 
(Arctic  Exped.  ii.  303).  ''It  was  left  for  the  ingenuity 
of  a  Westminster  Reviewer  to  discover  that  barbecue  (a 
wooden  frame  or  griUe  for  roasting  meat)  might  be  a 
corruption  of  the  French  barbe  a  queuef  ue.  *  from  snout 
to  tail  * — a  suggestion  which,  it  appears,  has  found  favour 
with  lexicographers." 

There  is  a  wonderful  multiplicity  of  distinct  languages 
and  subordinate  dialects  among  the  Indian  tribes.  Thus 
among  the  Snake  Indians,  of  which  tribe  the  Soshones 
are  a  branch,  seven  perfectly  different  languages  are 
spoken.  Under  these  circumstances  the  sign  manuals 
fill  a  decided  want.  Somehow  its  interpreting  meanings 
are  known  throughout  the  West ;  and  I  am  informed  by 
persons  who  have  been  among  the  Appaches,  in  the  ex- 
treme south  of  the  States,  that  the  signs  used  by  them 
are  the  same  as  are  understood  by  the  Flatheads  in  the 
northernmost  portions  of  the  country,  2000  miles  inter- 
vening between  them.  The  syntactic  and  descriptive 
construction  of  all  Indian  languages  facilitates,  of  course, 
communication  by  sign  manual.  It  is  possible  to  describe 
by  signs  a  certain  place  as  the  spot  ''  where  near  big  caves 
the  elk  shed  their  horns  and  the  rocks  are  red,"  a  locality 
which  we,  perhaps,  would  call  '*  Clark's  Fork,"  or  "  Carson 
Basin." 


286  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

The  weather  continuing  excessively  severe,  and  our 
horses,  notwithstanding  their  loads,  consisting  mostly  of 
my  antlers  and  heads,  had  been  reduced  to  a  minimum — 
obliging  me  with  much  heartburning  to  throw  aside  many 
grand  trophies — ^being  at  the  last  stage  of  emaciation,  I 
decided,  two  days  after  leaving  Fort  Washakie,  to  bring 
our  trip  to  a  temporary  termination.  While  the  men  were 
to  proceed  to  their  winter-quarters  to  await  my  return,  I 
availed  myself  of  the  mail  sleigh  conveying  despatches  and 
mail  from  the  fort  to  the  nearest  U.P.  station,  155  miles 
south  of  us,  from  whence  I  intended  to  proceed  to  Salt  Lake 
City,  there  to  await  more  favourable  weather  to  take  up  my 
interrupted  journey  with  them  into  the  Colorado  River 
country.  But  the  winter  of  1880-1  was  one  that  knocked  on 
the  head  all  my  plans,  for  not  only  was  my  little  pack-train 
rendered  entirely  hort  de  combat,  several  of  the  horses 
having  perished,  but  even  had  they  been  fresh  animals 
they  could  not  have  crossed  the  snow-hurricane-swept 
250  miles  of  bad-land  country  intervening  between  their 
home  and  the  head  canyons  of  the  river  I  desired  to  visit, 
and  of  which  I  shall  have  to  speak  in  the  next  chapter. 

I  had  an  intensely  cold  sleigh-ride  before  me,  across 
two  great  barren  passes,  one  of  them  10,000  feet  above  the 
sea,  and  on  the  whole  I  had  every  reason  to  congratulate 
myself  that  the  journey  from  the  Fort  to  the  railway  took 
me  only  five  days  (in  summer  it  is  covered  in  thirty- six 
hours).  In  all  my  experience  of  sleigh- driving,  to  me  the 
pleasantest  manner  of  travel,  they  certainly  occupy  a 
prominent  place.  Severe  snowstorms  had  snowed  up  the 
two  regular  mail  sleighs,  obliging  the  drivers  to  cut  loose 
the  horses  and  abandon  them,  they  themselves  escaping 
in  both  cases  in  a  badly  frostbitten  condition,  from  which 


Winter  Camps  and  Indian  Camps.        287 

I  heard  the  one  never  recovered.  My  own  journey  had 
therefore  to  he  performed  in  a  very  primitive  vehicle, 
knocked  together  in  a  forenoon.  The  driver  and  I  sat 
but  a  few  inches  over  the  snow  (where  it  was  beaten  down) 
on  a  platform  consisting  of  a  few  packing-case  boards 
nailed  across  the  runners,  the  mail  sack  as  a  seat,  and 
several  buffalo  robes  to  cover  us.  While  crossing  drifts, 
great  billows  of  powdery  snow  would  close  over  us.  The 
drivers  changed  twice  a  day,  while  fresh  horses  were  put 
in  every  twelve  or  fifteen  miles,  the  miserable  log  shanties 
where  the  relays  were  stabled  being — except  two  mining 
settlements,  then  completely  snowed  up — the  only  human 
habitation  we  passed  on  the  whole  weary  hundred  and 
fifty-five  mile  drive.  The  cold  on  these  elevated  steppes 
was  of  that  dangerous  kind  that  benumbed  before  one  had 
an  idea  of  its  doing  so.  Added  to  the  sixty  or  seventy 
degrees  of  frost,  a  high  wind  did  its  best  to  increase  our 
sufferings ;  and  as  on  the  bleak  mountain  ridges  we  had  to 
cross  about  Timberline  snowdrifts  thirty  feet  high  would 
be  formed  by  the  hurricane  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  there 
was  also  something  of  a  risk ;  the  high  mail  forfeits,  and 
consequently  good  pay  of  the  drivers,  being  the  only 
reason  that  the  mail  service  was  not  stopped  altogether. 
The  drivers  on  these  terribly  exposed  routes  are  invariably 
good  men ;  and  the  way  the  one  who  took  me  across  the 
highest  of  the  two  passes  managed  to  find  his  way  in  the 
blinding  snowstorm,  night  falling  fast,  and  nothing  what- 
ever to  guide  the  horses  or  the  driver,  was  very  creditable. 
While  I  was  crouching  close  up  to  him,  my  head  covered 
by  buffalo  robes,  he,  poor  fellow,  with  only  a  veil  over  his 
face,  had  to  expose  not  only  that  but  also  his  hands  for 
seven  hours.      Now  and  again,  when  in  his  dry  tone  he 


288  Camps  in  the  Rockies^ 

would  exclaim,  '*  Boss,  I  guess  my  nose  is  friz  (frostbitten) 
doggarned  near  off  my  face,"  I  would  relieve  him,  and 
let  him  occupy  himself  rubbing  his  nose  and  cheeks  with 
snow  under  the  shelter  of  the  robes,  while  I  took  the 
ribbons.  But  notwithstanding  I  imagined  myself  fairly 
inured  to  cold,  and  I  had  two  pair  of  gloves  on  my  hands, 
the  outer  one  of  warm  fur,  half  an  hour's  exposure  made 
them  80  stiff  that,  however  unwilling,  I  was  forced  to 
relinquish  the  reins.  When  finally,  at  midnight,  we  drew 
up  at  the  log  shanty  where  we  passed  the  night,  the 
70  odd  degrees  of  frost  which  the  thermometer  was 
then  marking  seemed  more  like  700.  We  were  both 
frostbitten,  and  I  shall  carry  mementoes  of  that  and  of 
the  following  day's  cold  about  with  me  for  my  life. 

The  driver  who  took  me  the  last  stage  of  my  journey 

into  X was  an  amusing  fellow.     For  all  I  know,  the 

former  ones  might  have  been  that  too,  but  it  was  far  too 
cold  for  them  to  show  it  or  for  me  to  find  it  out ;  but  as 
the  thermometer  had  "struck  the  twenties,"  and  an 
Arctic-looking  sun  was  doing  its  best  to  make  things  look 
brighter,  conversation,  helped  on  by  an  ample  allowance 
of  whiskey,  cropped  up  apace.  A  mile  or  so  outside  of 
the  city  we  crossed  a  small,  shallow  gulch,  spanned  by  a 
rude  bridge  consisting  of  two  cross-beams  and  seven  or 
eight  transversely-laid  trees,  the  construction  of  which  at 
the  utmost  could  have  cost  six  or  seven  dollars.  Hardly 
were  we  on  it,  when  down  came  the  whole  affair,  and  we 
were  landed  in  some  drifted  snow  at  the  bottom  of  the 
gully.  As  for  me,  it  was  the  eleventh  or  twelfth  upset 
on  the  drive ;  but  inasmuch  as,  owing  to  the  narrowness 
of  the  gulch,  the  horses  very  nearly  came  to  lie  upon  us, 
it  was  the  most  unpleasant  one  of  the  lot     My  driver  took 


Winter  Camps  and  Indian  Camps.        289 

it  even  more  stoically  than  I  did,  and  jocularly  remarked, 
"  For  a  $700  bridge  it  oughter  (ought  to  have)  stood  an 
extra  cuss's  heft  (weight)  !  "  We  were  indeed  approaching 
civilization  !  for  the  structure  which  had  given  way 
under  us  had  really  cost  the  "  city  "  that  sum,  owing,  as 
I  need  hardly  say,  to  gross  jobbery.  We  had  both 
escaped  without  the  slightest  injury — a  circumstance  which 
did  not  seem  to  please  Joe,  for,  according  to  him,  if 
you  had  any  friends  among  the  "bosses  as  were  running 
the  town,  there  was  hefty  money  in  that  thar  bridge  "  in 
the  way  of  damages  for  a  black  eye  or  contused  nose ; 
and  when  we  finally  got  our  vehicle  up  the  bank  and 
found  it  whole,  not  a  board  or  nail  missing,  it  was  in 
Joe's  eyes  "  Just  like  i.is  darned  luck ;  might  have  got  a 
hundred  dollars  out  of  the  county/' 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  we  rattled  through  the  snow- 
imprisoned  '*  city ''  of  X ,  and  I  was  back  in  civili- 
zation. 

The  following  was  a  bright  December  day ;  to  me  it 
seemed  quite  summerly,  for  the  settlement  lay  very  shel- 
tered, and  much  lower  than  the  steppes  over  which  I  had 
been  travelling. 

My  cane-bottomed  chair,  tipped  back  at  an  angle ;  a 
pile  of  letters,  and  a  bigger  one  of  newspapers — the  accu- 
mulation of  four  or  five  months' — lying  on  a  chair  near 
me ;  I  was  sitting  on  the  platform  in  front  of  a  certain 

•  Intending  visitors  to  the  West,  it  may  be  useful  for  them  to 
know,  should  bear  in  mind,  when  ordering  their  letters  to  be  for- 
warded, that  a  United  States  post-office  regulation  obliges  the  post- 
masters, if  not  instructed  to  the  contrary,  to  return  all  letters  that 
have  remained  unclaimed  at  their  offices  for  thirty  days,  to  the  Chief 
Office  at  Washington,  to  be  thence  forwarded  back  to  the  senders. 

U 


290  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

railway  hotel.  So  far  as  a  warm  bath,  the  barber,  and 
civilized  clothes  could  accomplish  the  metamorphosis,  I 
was  again  a  white  man.  But  it  was,  at  best,  only  a  partial 
and  outward  change.  Though  the  natives  were  walking 
about  with  cold-pinched  faces,  wrapped  in  furs,  the  heat  of 
the  rooms  in  the  hotel  seemed  as  unbearable  to  me  as  the 
ordinary  costume  of  mankind  appeared  ludicrously  elaborate, 
and,  after  the  loose,  though  tattered  and  stained  flannel 
and  buckskin  wardrobe,  most  uncomfortably  confining. 
I  felt  as  awkward  and  gawky  as  a  schoolboy  does  the  first 
time  he  appears  in  a  swallow-tail  coat.  My  shirt  cuffs 
seemed  too  long,  or  too  short ;  and  having  increased  more 
than  a  stone  in  weight,  there  was  just  cause  for  my 
wriggling  my  head  about,  trying  to  ease  the  tight  fit  of  a 
stand-up  collar.  Altogether  I  felt  myself  unpleasantly 
conspicuous ;  and  the  nameless  tortures  experienced  by  a 
man  **  walking  out "  a  new  suit  of  clothes  for  the  first 
time,  beset  me.  My  linen  looked  uncommonly  white,  and 
contrasted  with  the  chestnut  tint  of  my  face  and  neck. 
And  why  on  earth  did  the  passers-by  stare  so  at  me  ?  I 
finally  detected  that  it  was  for  the  very  good  reason  that 
they  could  not  quite  imderstand  why  I  sat  sunning  myself 
on  that  bitterly  cold  winter's  day,  in  front  of  the  hotel — 
a  circumstance  the  editor  of  the  local  paper  deemed,  as  I 
afterwards  heard,  sufficiently  eccentric  to  furnish  an  item 
for  his  broad-sheet. 

I  was  awaiting  the  West-bound  express  (it  was  on  the 
Union  Pacific  line),  but  as  the  trains,  in  consequence  of 
the  unprecedented  snowstorms,  were  running,  not  hours 
but  whole  days  late — there  is  only  one  train  each  way 
every  twenty-four  hours  on  the  great  trans- Continental  line 
—I  had  to  wait  thirty  hours  at  X . 


Winter  Camps  and  Indian  Camps.        291 

While  still  busy  witli  my  correspondence  the  East-bound 
train,  that  four  days  previously  had  started  from  California, 
arrived.  It  was  the  first  train  that  had  been  able  to  get 
thus  far  for  the  last  forty-two  hours,  and  the  huge  structure, 
drawn  by  two  locomotives,  as  it  slowly  drew  up  at  the 
station  looked  as  if  it  had  been  to  the  North  Pole  regions 
and  had  burrowed  its  way  through  mountains  of  snow. 
Huge  icicles  festooned  the  outside  of  the  cars,  and  big 
drifts  of  snow  had  accumulated  on  the  platforms  in  front 
of  the  doors.  The  three  or  four  palace-cars  were  well 
filled,  for  the  train  bore  also  the  passengers  and  mails  of 
the  preceding  one,  which  got  sno wed-up  East  of  the 
Sierras.  Dinner  was  awaiting  them,  and  a  motley, 
shivering  crowd  bustled  into  the  ample  dining-room  of  the 
hotel.  It  was  of  the  usual  cosmopolitan  character:  a 
couple  of  Japanese  bigwigs  on  their  way  to  join  their 
Embassy,  a  few  Chinese,  jovial  Californian  millionaires, 
successful  mining  men  who  were  going  East  in  quest  ol 
"a  good  time."  Frenchmen,  Germans,  and  Italians, 
thronged  past  dainty  waxen-complexioned  Americaines, 
carefully  muffled  up  in  furs  and  wraps,  as  they  stepped  from 
the  overheated  interiors  of  the  cars. 

Over  the  crowd  towered  three  tall  young  Englishmen, 
who,  less  in  a  hurry  than  the  rest,  stalked  through  the  throng 
in  a  leisurely  manner,  with  their  hands  stuck  deep  in  the 
pockets  of  their  loose  shooting-coats.  They  were  the  first 
English  faces  I  had  seen  for  more  than  half  a  year.  How 
familiar  they  seemed  to  me ;  how  unmistakably  English 
the  long  stride,  the  low  laugh  when  they  caught  sight  of 
the  black  gong-belabouring  demon  at  the  door  of  the 
hotel !  Like  the  Pitcairn  Islanders,  who  are  so  anxious  to 
talk  to  a  stranger  that  before  he  has  time  to  ask  how  they 

u  2 


292  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

are,  they  will  say  "  Quite  well,  thank  you,'*  I  wished  to 
jump  up  and  shake  hands.  But  they  were  entire  strangers 
to  me,  and  I  had  to  be  satisfied  with  as  close  an  examina- 
tion of  the  exterior  of  my  countrymen  as  could  be 
crammed  into  a  fleeting  moment.  None  but  those  who  have 
been  in  a  similar  position  can  know  how  your  critical 
glance  rests  on  the  rough  shooting-coat,  on  the  broad- 
soled  Glengarry  stalking-shoes ;  and  the  question,  Who 
made  that  Tweed  suit  or  those  boots  ?  becomes  one  of 
moment.  If  the  minute  though  unmistakable  signs  of 
workmanship  convince  you  that  the  article  in  question 
is  of  London  make,  a  smile  of  recognition  mantles  on 
your  face.  It  does  not  take  so  much,  after  all,  to  bring 
out  the  mellow  sides  of  human  nature !  Six  months  of 
a  lonely  life  far  from  countrymen's  faces  will  suffice  to 
metamorphose  the  angry  scowl,  called  up  by  your  discover- 
ing that  the  man  tripping  up  the  Club-steps  in  front  of 
you  wears  unmentionables  of  precisely  the  same  pattern 
as  yours,  into  a  beaming  smile  of  welcome. 

While  the  passengers  were  dining,  a  gang  of  men  was 
set  to  work  to  free  the  train  of  its  load  of  ice  and  snow. 
In  twenty  minutes  shovels  and  brooms  had  cleared  off  the 
white  shroud,  and  the  magnificent  palace-cars  shone  forth 
in  all  their  pristine  grandeur  of  plate  glass,  polished  metal, 
highly  varnished  wood,  the  outside  shell  of  a  luxurious 
velvet,  mahogany,  and  silver- mounted  interior.  What  a 
crass  contrast  did  not  the  flimsy  mushroom  "city"  of 
matchboard  houses,  uncouthly  new,  grotesquely  tasteless, 
afford,  as  it  lay  there  snow- buried  and  hurricane-swept  in  a 
desolate  gorge  on  the  great  desert  steppes  6000  feet  over 
the  sea,  hardly  more  than  ten  years  back  the  home  of 
the  cayote  wolf  and  of  the  rattler.    Two  strips  of  steel  had 


Winter  Camps  and  Indian  Camps,        293 

not  only  built  the  houses,  but  raised  the  desert  sand-dune* 
girt  hollow  to  the  dignity  of  a  wayside  station  on  the  great 
iron  route  circumnavigating  the  globe. 

Slow  and  stately  the  two  great  massive  monsters  and  their 
load  glided  out  from  the  station  ;  and  as  I  watched  the 
train  swiftly  disappear  in  the  gathering  gloom  of  the 
winter's  afternoon,  which  sunk  dull  and  grey  on  the  unpic- 
turesque  and  unreal  scene  before  and  around  me,  the  mighty 
force  of  man's  most  wonderful  invention  came  back  to  me 
with  redoubled  impressiveness.  My  backwood  philosophis- 
ing was  presently  disturbed  by  the  courteous  station-master, 
with  whom  I  had  struck  up  a  cigar  friendship.  Se  looked 
upon  steam  and  its  power  in  a  more  practical  light.  "  Big 
money  on  board  that  train,  sir  ;  'r'kon  not  a  cent  less  than 
twenty  millions  in  dust,  bones,  and  flesh.'*  That  *'  dust '' 
meant  gold  dust  or  bullion,  I  knew ;  but  *'  bones  and  flesh" 
were  a  mystery  to  me,  which  was  presently  cleared  up 
without  my  being  obliged  to  resort  to  questions,  by  being 

informed  that  Mr.  C ,  a  very  wealthy  New  Yorker, 

had  defuncted  in  San  Francisco,  and  his  body  was  being 
"  shipped  home ;"  while  three  noted  but  live  San  Francisco 
millionaires  were  speeding  eastwards — "  filling  the  bill 
consisting  of  dust  four,  bones  five,  and  flesh  eleven 
millions." 

As  I  take  a  short  retrospective  glance  at  those  first  days 
back  in  civilization,  let  the  latter  be  even  that  of  the 
"Walkerhouse  Hotel  at  Salt  Lake  City — than  which,  however, 
I  know  worse  places — I  become  more  and  more  convinced 
of  the  usefulness  of  man  now  and  again  returning  to  a 
savage  state.  Quite  aside  of  its  rejuvenescent  effects,  which, 
on  returning  to  your  fellow  beings,  endow  the  vapid 
pleasures  of  civilized  existence  with  the  attractions  the 


294  Camps  in  tJte  Rockies. 

tuck-shop  had  for  you  when  still  a  schoolboy — though  not 
unlike  the  sixth-form  prefect  whose  recently  donned  toga 
virilis  obliges  him  to  eat  his  cake  with  the  air  with  which 
we  now  take  a  Podophyllin  pill — aside,  I  say,  of  all  this, 
there  are  some  downright  practical  results  to  be  recorded  by 
the  traveller  on  his  return  from  the  wilds. 

The  trite  old  saying,  No  man  is  a  hero  to  his  valet  de 
chambre,  is  never  more  true  than  in  the  West,  where  the 
valet  has  necessarily  very  multifarious  duties,  and  uncom- 
fortably many  opportunities  of  making  himself  intimately 
acquainted  with  his  master's  vileness  of  temper  and  other 
unflattering  characteristics.  If  the  valet  is  worth  his  salt, 
he  will,  as  the  daily  exigencies  of  a  very  rough  life 
afford  him  ever-recurring  chances,  push  himself  into  the 
confidence  of  his  lord,  till  finally  the  robustly  practical 
underling  is  boss  of  the  city- worn  swell — of  course  only 
metaphorically  speaking,  for  I  need  hardly  say  I  ara  here 
referring  to  the  case  of  master  and  valet  being  personified 
in  one  and  the  same  individual. 

By  turning  temporarily  a  semi-savage  you  realize  how 
civilization  was  gradually  built  up.  As  you  look  at  the 
copper-coloured  aborigines  of  North  America,  whose  customs 
withal  remind  you  of  those  of  the  Scythians  as  described 
by  Herodotus,  and  you  detect  that  the  skin  garments  in 
which  they  are  wrapt  are  fastened  around  them  by  precisely 
the  same  primitive  thongs  that  hold  together  similar  gar- 
ments in  which  John  the  Baptist  is  clothed  in  Carlo 
Crivelli's  great  altarpiece  painted  more  than  four  centuries 
ago,  your  inductive  acumen  notes  that  the  red  man  has 
not  yet  reached  that  stage  which  makes  pockets  a  necessity. 
Presently  you  discover,  at  the  further  expenditure  of  your 
ingenuity,  that  these  self-same  pockets  of  which  for  many 


Winter  Camps  and  Indian  Camps.        295 

centuries  our  race  has  made  use,  are,  in  reality,  nothing 
but  the  savage's  bags  sewn  on  to  the  garments  of  our 
maturer  understanding. 

Lord  Dunraven,  in  one  of  his  most  attractively-written 
papers  ontheWest,  very  truly  remarks,  *4t  is  the  clothes  that 
make  the  man,"  at  least  the  man  with  whom  our  civilization 
has  made  us  acquainted — "  that  the  gentility  of  most  men  is 
contained  in  their  shirt  collars."  Nothing  will  prove  this 
more  indisputably  than  a  temporary  relapse  to  semi- 
savagery  in  the  wilds  of  the  West,  for  it  will  show  you  that 
your  hunter  or  your  guide,  or  the  next  best  cowboy,  can 
under  equalizing  circumstances  look  decidedly  more  the 
gentleman  than  you,  who  have  taken  to  a  wild  life  only 
temporarily. 

Of  the  more  practically  useful  results  let  me  mention, 
that  while  in  your  wild  life  you  learn  to  do  and  to  go  with- 
out the  most  essential  necessaries  of  your  former  luxurious 
existence,  you  realize  how  inflated  are  man*s  daily  wants. 
When  that  valet  of  yours  has  once  got  the  whip  hand,  or, 
to  use  a  Westernism,  has  got  the  "  bulge  "  of  you,  it  will 
amuse  you  to  observe  how,  as  your  journey  extends  from 
day  to  day,  that  too  much  of  a  job  grows  more  frequent;  and 
finally,  when  you  do  pull  yourself  up  at  the  more  than  com- 
monly outrageous  neglect  of  some  lifelong  habit,  you  smile 
at  your  hero,  and  place  a  mark  of  approbation  against 
Montesquieu's  maxim,  that  what  you  can  do  yourself,  you 
will  do  best. 


296  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

CAMPS  IN   THE    CANYONS   OF  THE  OOLORAIX)  KIVEK. 

History  of  the  Colorado  and  its  exploration — First  white  explorers— 
Their  perils — Our  expedition — First  view  of  the  Flaming  Gorgt 
— A  winter  day  in  the  Canyons — Grand  surroundings — Horse- 
shoe Canyon — Geological  speculations. 

Unlike  the  other  great  natural  wonders  of  the  North 
American  continent,  the  Niagara  Falls,  the  Yosemite 
Valley,  the  Yellowstone  Park,  the  great  Kentucky  Caves- 
one  and  all  the  scene  of  a  revolting  trade  in  the  charms 
of  nature — there  is  yet  left  one  in  the  Far  West  grander 
than  the  rest,  which  happily  is  not  likely  ever  to  become 
the  vested  property  of  a  gang  of  'cute  Yankee  guides, 
touts,  and  that  ilk.  I  mean  the  famous  canyons 
formed  by  the  Colorado  River.  To-day  these  wonderful 
gorges,  occupying  at  intervals  more  than  1000  miles 
of  the  course  of  the  Colorado,  and  formed  by  walls 
which  in  some  places  reach  a  height  of  6200  feet,  are 
undoubtedly  by  far  the  deepest  and  the  longest  known  ; 
and,  in  view  of  certain  signs  in  the  geological  formation 
of  the  as  yet  perfectly  unexplored  portions  of  the 
Himalayas,  it  is  not  likely,  so  authorities  affirm,  that  the 
only  locality  where  this  American  natural  wonder  might 


Camps  in  the  Canyons  of  the  Colorado  River,  297 

find  a  match  can  boast  of  fissures  of  as  great  or  greater 
profundity. 

Before  I  speak  of  a  visit  of  exploration  I  paid  to  these 
canyons  at  a  somewhat  unusual  season,  namely,  in 
midwinter,  I  would  desire  to  revert  shortly  to  the  chief 
events  in  the  recent  history  of  this  most  interesting  river. 
The  Government  of  the  United  States,  displaying  a 
characteristic  energy  in  the  scientific  exploration  of  the 
Western  Territories — recognizing  from  the  first  the  im- 
portant influence  of  such  work  upon  the  early  development 
of  the  mineral  and  other  riches  of  these  vast  domains — 
made  the  thorough  exploration  of  the  Colorado  River  the 
subject  of  one  of  its  most  interesting  official  reports. 
These  documents,  displaying  to  an  uncommon  degree 
painstaking  zeal  and  deep  scientific  research,  are,  as  is 
well  known,  models  of  their  kind,  and  have  long  become 
standard  works  of  high  scientific  value.  The  one  I  would 
specially  refer  to  is  practically  in  two  parts,  the  first  for  a 
general,  the  second  for  a  scientific  pubHc  ;  while  the 
copious  and  remarkably  truthful  illustrations,  mostly 
from  photographs,  bring  some  of  the  wonderful  sights  in 
a  lifelike  manner  before  the  reader. 

Captain,  now  Major,  J.  W.  Powell,  who  compiled  the 
first  portion  of  the  report,  was  the  leader  of  the  four 
(xo  \rernment  expeditions  that  explored  the  Colorado  River 
country  in  the  years  1869,  1870,  1871,  and  1872.  And 
to  him  and  his  men  belong  the  honour  of  being  the  first 
human  beings,  at  least  in  our  times,  who  passed  alive 
through  the  whole  length  of  the  canyons.  Considering 
that  the  interior  of  most  of  the  gloomy  gorges  was  entirely 
unknown,  that  Indian  and  trapper  tales  teeming  with 
horrors  far  eclipsing  those  of  Dante's   "  Inferno "   had 


298  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

woven  round  them  a  halo  of  unknown  peril,  the  feat  waa 
decidedly  a  remarkable  one.  Once  within  the  stupendous 
rocky  gates  of  the  first  canyon,  the  bold  explorers  em- 
barked in  light  boats  which  had  heen  transported  across 
1500  miles  of  desert,  well  knowing  that  return  would  be 
impossible,  and  that  to  escape  on  foot  was  next  to  being  so, 
and  would  only  be  feasible  at  certain  places  few  and  far 
apart.  Carried  along  by  the  strong  current  of  the  stream, 
they  passed  many  weeks  in  the  wonderful  labyrinth  of 
gorges,  hemmed  in  by  walls  often  5000  or  6000  feet  high, 
never  sure  that  the  next  hour  might  not  be  their  last ; 
for  cataracts  or  whirlpools  might  engulf  them,  or  rapids 
wreck  their  boats,  leaving  them,  even  if  they  did  escape 
with  their  lives,  to  die  a  lingering  death  by  starvation — 
a  fate  of  which  report  furnished  several  instances.  It 
was  generally  believed,  too,  that  the  river,  like  many 
others  in  America,  was  lost  underground  for  several 
hundred  miles,  while  other  accounts  told  of  great  falls, 
whose  roaring  could  be  heard  on  the  distant  mountain 
summits. 

Altogether,  the  first  expedition  which,  on  May  27, 1869, 
started  from  Green  River  City  in  four  boats,  with  provisions 
for  six  months,  was  one  to  which  was  attached  more  than 
usual  interest,  more  than  usual  peril. 

A  glance  at  the  map  of  the  North  American  Continent 
shows  us  that  the  Colorado  is  one  of  the  longest  rivers  in 
the  West,  its  course  being  over  2000  miles  in  length.  It 
drains  some  300,000  square  miles ;  and  few  rivers  have 
more  eventful  or  diversified  courses,  none  offer  richer 
fields  for  scientific  research.  The  Colorado,  bearing  in  its 
upper  course  another  name,  i.e.  Green  River,  a  circum- 
stance occurring  very   frequently  in  the    West,  has  it« 


Camps  in  the  Canyons  of  the  Colorado  River,  299 

source,  as  we  liave  heard,  on  tlie  Western  slopes  of  the 
Big  Wind  Eiver  Mountains.  After  flowing  for  about  100 
miles  through  vast  stretches  of  Alpine  forest,  which  few 
white  men  have  ever  penetrated,  it  soon  leaves  the  upper 
mountain  region,  to  commence  its  southerly  course  across 
the  treeless  foothills  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  over  the 
arid  wastes  of  the  Plains,  through  the  dreaded  bad- 
lands of  Wyoming  and  Utah,  where  the  Union  Pacific 
line  crosses  it,  till  it  reaches  the  first  canyon  on  the 
boundaries  of  the  State  of  Colorado.  Here  begins  the 
most  wonderful  portion  of  its  course.  For  more  than 
1000  miles  the  waters  have  cut,  at  shorter  or  longer 
intervals,  deep  gorges,  varying  in  length  all  the  way,  from 
a  mile  or  two  to  two  hundred  and  seventeen,  that  being  the 
extent  of  the  longest  canyon.  Their  character,  owing  to 
a  great  variety  of  geological  reasons,  differs  much  in  general 
aspect.  While  some  are  excessively  narrow  fissures,  and 
from  1200  to  6200  feet  in  depth,  others  exhibit  on  a  most 
gigantic  scale  various  types  of  formation,  brought  about, 
one  and  all,  by  erosion,  or,  as  we  might  call  it,  the  carving- 
out  power  of  water.  The  whole  country  of  the  Colorado, 
as  Powell  remarks,  is  a  history  of  the  war  of  the  elements, 
to  beat  back  the  encroaching  advances  of  land  upon  ocean 
depths.* 

After  leaving  the  last  canyon  the  river  reaches  the  hot, 
arid  Plains  of  Arizona  and  New  Mexico,  and  enters  upon 
the  last  third  of  its  course,  its  level  but  little  above  the 
Pacific,   till,  finally,   the  limpid  mountain    waters,  long 

'  As  I  am  no  geologist,  and  hence  am  not  a  partisan  of  either  the 
great  Camps  of  erosionists  and  their  opponents,  I  simplj  quote  the 
words  of  the  two  chief  aathorities  who  have  recorded  their  views  in 
Powell's  report. 


300  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

metamorphosed  into  turbid  mud-stained  floods,  empty  int« 
the  Gulf  of  California. 

The  mouth  of  the  Colorado  has  been  known  for  two  and 
a  half  centuries.  Fernando  Alarcon  discovered  it  a.d. 
1539,  when,  sent  by  the  Viceroy  of  Spain,  he  explored 
the  Gulf  of  California.  The  first  ascent  from  the  mouth 
up  to  the  commencement  of  the  canyons — about  620  miles 
in  length,  the  only  portion  of  the  river  that  is  navigable — 
was  made  not  twenty-five  years  back  (1858)  by  a  Lieute- 
nant Ives,  who  explored,  for  the  Government,  the  lower 
Colorado.  He  reached  by  boat  a  point  some  eighty  miles 
below  the  Grand  Canyon,  and  being  unable  to  proceed 
farther  in  his  craft,  he  organized  a  land  expedition,  by 
which  means  he  and  his  companions  caught  sight,  from 
above,  of  the  stupendous  abyss  of  the  great  gorge,  at  the 
bottom  of  which  ran  the  Colorado,  a  sight  *'  which  rooted 
them  to  the  ground  in  profound  wonderment."  Three  or 
four  years  before,  the  upper  canyons  had  been  the  scene  of 
a  remarkable  exploit.  It  was  a  descent  attempted  by  two 
prospectors  (gold-seekers)  who  had  penetrated  into  the 
then  still  perfectly  unknown  regions  of  South-Eastern 
Utah,  where  they  had  been  attacked  by  Indians.  Taking 
refuge  in  one  of  the  uppermost  canyons  of  the  river  which 
happened  to  be  in  close  vicinity,  these  two  men.  White 
and  Strobe  by  name,  rather  than  attempt  a  retreat  through 
country  beset  by  Indians,  where  worse  than  death  awaited 
them,  constructed  a  raft  of  such  wood  and  timber  as  they 
could  get  hold  of,  and  with  a  very  short  allowance  of  pro- 
visions dared  the  unknown  dangers  of  a  descent  through 
the  canyon.  Four  days  after  entering  the  head  can3^on, 
while  descending  a  rapid,  the  raft  was  upset,  Strobe 
drowned,   and   aU   provisions,   blankets,    and   arms   lost. 


Camps  in  the  Canyons  of  the  Colorado  River,  301 

White,  who  had  clung  to  the  raft,  managed  to  right  it, 
and  continued  his  journey  alone,  amid  great  peril  from 
rapids  and  whirlpools,  hemmed  in  by  the  huge  walls  of 
some  of  the  deepest  canyons  of  the  river.  Ten  days  more 
it  took  him  to  reach  a  creek  in  the  formation  of  continuous 
gorges,  and  here  he  found  a  few  miserable  adobe  huts, 
tenanted  by  half-breed  Mexicans.  White  during  the  ten 
days  had  eaten  food  but  once,  and  then  only  some  fruit 
pods  and  leaves  he  had  gathered  from  bushes  growing 
along  the  bank.  Report  mentions  that  he  escaped  on  this 
occasion  with  his  Hfe,  but,  like  many  others  of  his  brother 
prospectors,  was  killed  the  following  year  by  his  old  foes. 

In  1855  a  similar  attempt  was  made  under  like  circum- 
stances, but  by  a  numerically  larger  party.  They  were 
also  wrecked,  and  with  the  exception  of  one  Ashley  and 
another  man,  all  were  drowned,  Captain  Powell  discover- 
ing fourteen  years  later  some  of  the  remains  of  the  wreck 
and  provisions.  Ashley's  name  will  not  be  forgotten,  for 
Powell,  when  christening  the  various  hitherto  nameless 
rapids  and  canyons,  named  the  spot  where  the  party  of 
bold  prospectors  came  to  grief  Ashley  Falls. 

But  the  Government  expedition  also  met  with  many 
disastrous  adventures,  for,  although  the  reported  disappear- 
ance of  the  river  and  the  rumoured  presence  of  high  falls 
were  found  to  be  mythical,  yet  the  many  rapids  were 
of  a  highly  dangerous  nature,  entailing  constant  portages, 
several  shipwrecks,  the  entire  loss  of  one  boat  and  its  load, 
the  partial  loss  of  the  contents  of  the  other  three,  and  the 
depriving  the  explorers  of  a  great  portion  of  their  stores, 
provisions,  and  instruments. 

But  now,  after  these  lengthy  introductory  remarks,  let 
me  speak  of  my  own  visit  to  the  uppar  canyons ;  and 


302  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

though  my  expedition  was  framed  on  a  far  more  modest 
scale,  and  I  saw  but  a  portion  of  the  wonders  of  the  can- 
yons, I  yet  hope— considering  that,  so  far  as  I  know,  abso- 
lutely nothing  has  ever  been  published  in  England 
concerning  this  wonderful  gorge  land — that  my  notes  may 
prove  of  passing  interest.  The  reader  has  learnt  that  the 
exceptional  severity  of  the  winter  prevented  the  execution 
of  my  original  plan  of  following  the  course  of  the  Green  or 
Colorado  River,  after  leaving  the  Big  "Wind  River  and 
Sierra  Soshone  country.  The  expected  and  usual  spell  of 
fine  winter  weather  about  January  was  that  year  con- 
spicuous by  its  absence,  and  I  had  to  give  up  all  idea  of 
carrying  out  my  plans  in  the  way  I  had  intended. 

What  otherwise  could  not  have  been  accomplished,  the 
kind  assistance   and  exceedingly-appreciated   hospitality 

of  Captain  Y ,  of  the  Scouts,  at  Fort  Bridger,^  enabled 

me  to  undertake.  About  the  middle  of  February,  1881, 
two  English  friends  and  myself  started  from  Salt  Lake 
City  for  the  Fort,  where  everything  was  in  readiness  for 
the  expedition.  So  the  following  day  a  small  caravan, 
consisting  of  two  or  three  huge  waggons,  a  small  detach- 
ment of  troopers,  and  some  other  camp-followers,  alto- 
gether quite  a  formidable  party,  "  pulled  out "  for  Henry's 
Fork,  a  tributary  of  the  Colorado,  joining  it  just  before 
the  first  canyon.  After  a  weary  journey  over  the  bleak 
and  desolate  regions  of  the  mauvaises  terres,  where  heavy 
snowfalls  played  our  little  party  many  awkward  tricks, 
obliging  us  on  several  occasions  to  break  roads  with  the 

•  Fort  Bridget  has  only  recently  (in  1880)  been  re-occupied  by 
United  States  troops,  on  account  of  the  Ute  Indian  outbreak  in  1879, 
and  the  unsettled  state  of  the  country  since.  Previous  to  that  it  WM 
for  a  couple  of  years  unoccupied  by  the  military. 


Camps  in  the  Canyons  of  the  Colorado  River.  303 

Bnow -shovel  and  pickaxe,  we  reacted,  on  tlie  fourtli  day 
from  our  starting-point,  tlie  banks  of  the  Colorado. 

I  must  pause  here  to  explain  to  the  reader  the  reason 
why,  contrary  to  all  preceding  explorations  of  the  river 
and  canyons,  I  chose  the  depth  of  a  very  severe  winter  to 
accomplish  my  object.  Hitherto,  the  canyons  had  been 
visited  only  in  boats  during  the  summer  season ;  but  as  I 
was  quite  unable  to  provide  such  craft — a  time-robbing 
and  very  expensive  undertaking  in  the  wilderness — I  based 
my  plans  upon  the  supposition  that  the  river  would  be 
ice-bound,  and  I  would  then  be  enabled  to  thread  my  way 
through  the  canyons  in  a  novel  and  expeditious  manner. 
As  such  a  thing  had  never  been  done  before,  at  least  as 
far  as  I  could  learn,  and  as  the  country  through  which 
the  Colorado  forms  its  chief  canyons  is  entirely  unpopu- 
lated and  barren,  I  had  no  information  whatever  to  go  by 
as  to  whether  such  a  proceeding  were  possible.  My  conjec- 
tures turned  out,  however,  to  be  correct,  for  even  the  rapid 
current  of  the  mountain  stream  could  not  resist  the  intense 
and  long-continued  cold. 

The  first  canyon  is  formed  by  the  river  breaking  through 
the  Unitah  Range,  one  of  the  few  branch  chains  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains  running  in  a  transverse  direction,  Le, 
from  East  to  West,  at  a  point  where  it  rises  to  elevations 
of  nearly  14,000  feet. 

Right  at  the  head  of  this  canyon,  and  at  the  foot  of  the 
very  precipitous  mountains,  there  is  a  stretch  of  meadow 
land.  Here,  isolated  from  the  world,  three  old  trappers, 
after  turning  squaw  men,  Le.  marrying  Indian  wives,  had 
taken  to  raise  their  cattle  in  a  patriarchal  fashion,  and 
their  primitive  log  cabins  and  Indian  lodges  dotted  the 
plain.     From  them,  to  my  joy,  I  learnt  that  also  within 


304  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

the  canyons,  as  far  at  least  as  one  of  them  from  curiosity 
had  ventured  to  penetrate,  the  river  was  frozen.  This  was 
indeed  good  news,  for,  while  I  was  sure  that  outside  the 
canyons,  where  the  river  was  comparatively  shallow  and 
broad,  the  ice  would  bear  any  weight,  I  was  very  doubtful 
of  a  similar  state  of  things  within  the  gorges,  where 
the  channel  was  considerably  narrowed,  the  depth  much 
greater,  and  the  current  naturally  stronger,  thus  defying, 
as  I  previously  feared,  even  Arctic  cold  to  lay  it  in  bonds. 
Close  to  the  head  canyon  we  pitched  a  permanent  camp, 
where  our  waggon  and  extra  stores  could  be  left,  while 
we  made  independent  expeditions,  hampered  only  with 
the  most  essential  portion  of  our  camping  utensils,  into 
the  rock-arched  gorges  of  the  famous  stream.  The  morning 
following  our  arrival  was  to  witness  our  first  introduction 
to  the  canyons.  It  was  a  bright,  crisp,  wind-still  winter's 
morning,  and  at  8  a.m.  when,  after  the  usual  contretemps 
in  the  saddling  of  fractious  horses  and  packing  of  unwill- 
ing mules,  we  left  camp,  the  thermometer  marked  in  the 
shale  one  degree  below  zero.  The  vast,  marvellously 
grotesque  landscape  of  the  bad-lands  through  which  we 
had  been  travelling,  and  to  which  we  were  now  about  to 
bid  good-bye,  lay  before  us  with  a  snow-endowed  bril- 
liancy painful  to  the  eye  ;  and  when  soon  afterwards  the 
sun  topped  the  jagged  ridge  overhead,  and  the  imiform 
pall  of  snow  over  which  we  were  moving  was  lit  up 
with  refulgent  brightness  also  unbearable  to  the  eye,  we 
had  to  halt  in  order  to  take  those  primitive  but  effective 
precautions  against  snow-blindness  which  are  afforded  by 
dabbing  the  face  round  the  eye  with  a  coat  of  gunpowder 
moistened  with  water.  In  due  time  we  reached  the  enor- 
tn  Dus  portals  of  the  head  canyon,  the  famous  Flaming  Gorge 


Camps  in  tJu  Canyons  of  the  Colorado  River,  305 

— so-called  from  the  flaming  orange  and  pink  hue  of  the 
rocks  confining  it.  A glorioas  sight  burst  on  our  eyes  on 
turning  the  sharp  corner  of  the  nearest  buttress,  and  for 
the  first  time  entrusting  ourselves  to  the  ice  of  the  river. 
In  solemn  gloomy  stillness  the  marvellous  gorge  lay  before 
us,  and  though  the  cliffs  on  both  sides  were  not  sheer 
precipices,  but  rather  built  up  in  terraced  steps  of  gigantic 
magnitude,  the  wonderful  colouring  of  the  rocks  gave 
the  whole  a  weirdly  beautiful  charm.  So  narrow  was  the 
chasm,  so  close  did  the  huge  buttresses  of  rock,  forming 
the  portal  between  which  we  were  standing,  approach  each 
other,  that  a  very  few  steps  into  the  interior,  where  a 
bend  in  the  river  occurs,  sufficed  to  let  the  narrow  entrance 
disappear  entirely.  The  cliffs  at  this  spot  are  not  so  much 
remarkable  for  their  height  (Major  Powell's  measurement 
of  them  gives  them  a  sheer  altitude  of  1200  feet),  as 
for  their  grotesque  formation  and  colour.  It  was  about 
noon,  and  the  sun,  just  climbing  over  the  knifeback  eastern 
ridge,  cast  slanting  rays  into  the  gloom  and  stillness  of 
the  gorge,  lighting  up  with  a  glorious  halo  of  vapoury 
light  the  bizarre  array  of  pinnacles,  turrets,  and  bold 
fantastic  carvings  imitating  architectural  forms,  and 
suggesting  rude  but  weird  statuary,  which  lined  the  escarp- 
ment on  the  top  of  the  Western  cliffs. 

Before  us  lay  a  long  vista  of  rock-hemmed  river,  far 
more  like  a  broad,  smooth  Alpine  road  through  a  gigantic 
mountain  defile  than  the  emerald- tinted,  smoothly-gliding 
Colorado  of  summer-time.  A  thin  layer  of  snow  covered 
the  ice  to  a  depth  of  an  inch,  while  outside,  on  the  plains 
and  on  the  mountains,  the  snowy  pall  was  at  least  eighteen 
inches  deep.  We  were  strung  out  in  a  long  line  some 
eight  or  nine  men,  and  twice  that  number  of  horses  and 

X 


3o6  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

pack-aiiiraals),  and  so  impressive  was  tlie  scene  tliat  foi 
some  time  we  proceeded  in  silence,  each  busy  with  his  own 
thoughts.  Five  hundred  yards  from  the  portals  was  a 
grove  of  gaunt,  leafless  cotton  woods,  the  last  trees  deserv- 
ing that  nane  for  many  miles.  I  easily  recognized  in 
this  spot  the  last  camping-place  of  Major  Powell  before 
entering  the  canyons,  then  still  quite  unknown  to  them. 
As  I  picked  my  steps  through  the  grove,  where  old  signs 
of  human  presence  apparently  proved  the  correctness  of 
my  discovery,  I  could  vividly  picture  to  myself  the 
thoughts  that  must  have  moved  the  breasts  of  the  bold 
explorers  as,  on  the  eventful  morning  of  May  30,  1869, 
they  pushed  oflP  in  their  boats,  having  before  them  about 
as  intensely  exciting  a  journey,  as  full  of  unknown  dangers, 
as  human  mind  can  picture  to  itself. 

Warned  by  white  man  and  by  Indian,  who  foretold 
certain  destruction,  the  little  party  must  have  left  the 
spot  with  mingled  feelings  of  keen  anxiety  and  hope. 
An  Indian  chief,  whom  Powell  had  previously  consulted 
respecting  the  possibility  of  passing  through  the  canyons, 
had  described  to  him  an  attempt  made  by  some  of  his  tribe 
to  run  the  canyon  in  boats.  "  The  rocks,"  he  said,  hold- 
ing his  hands  above  his  head,  his  arms  vertical,  and  look- 
ing between  them  to  heaven,  "  the  rocks  h-e-a-p,  h-e-a-p 
high  ;  the  water  go  h-oo-wough,  h-oo-wough;  water-pony 
(boat)  h-e-a-p-buck ;  water  catch  *em ;  no  see  'em  Injuns 
any  more  I  No  see  'em  squaw  any  more !  No  see  'em 
papoose  (babies)  any  more !  " 

Very  soon  we  came  to  the  first  rapids,  the  object  of  intense 
anxiety  to  Powell,  for  the  waters  plunged  madly  down 
among  great  rocks,  and  it  was  their  first  experience  with 
the  dangers  of  the  canyon.     Now  everything  was  bound  in 


Camps  in  the  Canyons  of  the  Colorado  River.  307 

icy  fetters,  though  one  could  see,  by  the  ven^  uneven  nature 
of  the  surface,  and  by  the  huge  blocks  of  ice  that  lay  scat- 
tered about — evidently  cast  up  before  the  whole  was  frozen 
over — that  it  cost  the  king  of  winter  a  very  severe  effort 
to  subdue  the  unruly  element.  The  rapids  are  not  long, 
but  there  is  an  interesting  feature  connected  with  them, 
which  I  found  repeated  in  most  of  the  lower  canyons. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  rapid,  where,  as  is  to  be  supposed, 
the  current  is  very  strong,  we  observed  a  big  green  patch, 
and  on  approaching  found  it  to  be  an  open  space  in  the  ice. 
Standing  on  the  brink  of  the  hole,  the  latter  about  eight 
or  ten  feet  square,  you  could  see  the  green  waters  bubble 
and  whirl  beneath  you ;  and  a  stick  of  wood  which  I  held 
down  was  swept  away  with  great  velocity.  The  hole,  as 
could  be  seen  from  the  hundreds  of  foot-tracks  of  game 
leading  to  and  from  it,  was  evidently  a  water-hole,  kept 
open,  T  fancy,  chiefly  by  the  agency  of  beavers,  whose 
numerous  tracks,  forming  regular  paths,  had  already 
attracted  my  attention.  Whether  this  and  other  holes  of 
like  description  were  caused,  to  a  certain  extent,  by  warm 
springs,  the  action  of  the  whirling  waters,  or  whether 
exclusively  the  work  of  animals,  I  am  unable  to  say.  In 
the  course  of  my  subsequent  exploration  I  certainly  found 
that  frequently  these  open  spaces  occurred  at  the  foot  of 
rapids.  The  ice  was  of  prodigious  thickness — between 
eighteen  inches  and  two  feet — and,  when  free  from  snow, 
of  a  beautiful  green,  a  hue  imparted  to  it  of  course  by  the 
colour  of  the  water  beneath.  Now  and  again  there 
would  be  a  loud  report,  and  a  broad  crack  would  run 
across  the  icy  highway,  caused,  I  presume,  by  a  sinking 
of  the  water-level  after  the  freezing  of  the  river,  leaving 
a  minute  hollow  space  beneath  our  pavement.     Harmless 

X  2 


3o8  Camps  in  the  Rockies 

in  itself,  it  frightened  the  horses  and  mules  very  con- 
siderably. The  first  two  canyons  are  short— half  a  mile 
and  a  mile,  perhaps — and  after  each  the  river  broadens 
considerably,  while  the  banks  decrease  in  height  and 
steepness.  Our  goal  for  the  first  day  was  an  old  log  cabin, 
erected,  I  believe,  years  before  by  Ashley,  when  trapping 
for  beaver  a  mile  or  so  up  the  first  tributary  creek  we 
cam6  to,  and  to  which  our  ranchemen  friends  had  advised 
us  to  direct  our  steps.  We  reached  the  solitary  spot 
towards  evening  by  making  what  in  local  parlance  is 
called  a  "  cut  off'*  across  an  intervening  ridge  of  moun- 
tains. Here,  close  to  the  deeper  canyons,  we  found  a  most 
desirable  locality  to  pitch  camp  for  a  thorough  exploration 
of  the  whole  country.  The  log  cabin,  a  mere  crumbling 
wreck,  was  of  greater  value  as  a  fuel-producing  than  as  a 
shelter-giving  asylum.  My  companions  being  more  inte- 
rested with  other  features  of  the  country  than  with  the 
canyons,  I  was  left  a  good  deal  to  myself  when  exploring, 
in  the  course  of  several  days,  for  mile  upon  mile,  the 
beauties  of  the  Horseshoe,  the  Kingfisher,  the  Swallow, 
and  Red  Canyons. 

Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  of  the  upper  canyons  is  the 
Horseshoe,  a  name  given  to  it  by  Powell,  on  account  of  its 
likeness  to  the  letter  U,  the  upright  lines  being  much 
elongated.  Prior  to  reaching  the  canyon,  the  river  crosses 
a  comparatively  level  stretch  of  highland,  when  suddenly, 
instead  of  pursuing  its  course  across  the  flat,  where  nothing 
obstructs  its  course,  it  turns  sharply  to  the  left,  and,  at  a 
right  angle  to  its  previous  direction,  enters  the  mountains, 
cutting  for  itself  a  channel  1800  or  2000  feet  in  depth. 
After  proceeding  for  more  than  a  mile  towards  the  very 
heart  of  the  chain,  it  wheels  back^  and^  after  a  curve, 


Camps  in  the  Canyons  of  the  Colorado  River,  309 

makes  a  straight  cut  towards  the  level  land  it  left,  at  a 
point  not  half  a  mile  from  the  one  where  it  quits  the 
mountains.  I  am  told  that  a  like  instance  is  unknown  to 
topographers,  and  to  me  it  certainly  seemed  a  most  per- 
plexing exhibition  of  Nature's  arbitrary  power.' 

It  was  a  beautiful  winter's  day  when  I  explored  this 
and  the  following  canyons.  Alone,  with  some  necessaries 
packed  on  my  Indian  pony,  I  threaded  my  way  through 
the  gorges.  The  walls  rapidly  increase  in  height,  but  the 
eye,  unaccustomed  to  measure  their  altitudes,  hardly 
detects  the  difference  between  2000  and  3000  feet  or 
more.  In  some  places  the  channel  is  very  narrow,  so  that 
the  winterly  sun,  excepting  about  half  an  hour  at  mid-day, 
remained  invisible.  It  had  snowed  during  the  night,  and 
a  thin  film  of  snow  that  had  reached  this  depth  covered 
the  ice,  enabling  me  to  track  the  numerous  beavers,  and 
also  a  bear,  who  had  been  tempted  from  his  winter  lair 
by  the  warm  bright  day.  Of  the  latter,  however,  I  did  not 
catch  sight,  for  he  left  the  main  canyon  by  a  side  creek, 
and  it  was  impossible  to  follow  him.  With  the  beavers, 
however,  it  was  different,  for  I  scared  up  two  old  **  dogs  " 
(male  beaver),  and  in  the  rock-bound  canyon,  in  the 
absence  of  water-holes,  no  other  escape  was  left  to  them 
but  a  rapid  flight  on  the  ice,  affording  me  the  rare  chance 
of  watching  their  movements  outside  their  proper  element. 
Clumsy  and  heavy  as  the  animal  seems  on  land,  the  rapidity 
of  its  movements  when  on  "the  jump ''are  doubly  wonderful. 
The  second  one  offered  too  tempting  a  chance  for  a  shot ; 
but,  before  I  had  time  to  get  my  Express  from  the  horn 

•  I  since  hear  that,  although  not  on  such  a  grand  scale,  the  abrupt 
and  acute  cuts  in  the  bed  of  the  Zambesi  above  the  Victoria  Falls,  afford 
an  almost  equally  wonderful  instance  of  this  apparent  fieak  of  nature 


3IO  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

of  my  saddle — ray  pony,  used  to  this  kind  of  independent 
work,  was  quietly  following  me,  with  the  reins  hanging 
knotted  over  his  neck — a  series  of  most  grotesque  leaps  of 
very  flat  trajectory  had  taken  it  nearly  200  yards  off,  so 
that  when  I  did  fire  the  miss  was  a  clean  one,  the  race 
being  left  to  the  fugitive  beaver  and  my  ricocheting  bullet, 
while  the  echo,  of  appalling  intensity,  and  of  duration  never 
before  heard  by  me,  went  rolling  and  crashing  backwards 
and  forwards  through  the  gorge,  breaking  with  rude 
violence  the  silence  of  eternity. 

Beavers  and  a  couple  of  large  eagles,  who  soared  at 
great  height. over  the  river,  were  the  only  living  things  I 
encountered  in  this  and  the  other  main  canyons.  Of 
Bighorn,  the  ibex  of  the  Rockies,  of  which  Major  Powell, 
in  his  summer  explorations,  saw  numbers  when  the  forma- 
tion of  the  walls  was  such  as  to  leave  them  a  footing,  I 
discovered  none  till,  towards  the  end  of  my  stay  in  this 
part  of  the  country,  I  one  day  saw  an  old  ram  in  a  side 
canyon.  He  had  a  good  head,  and  his  meat  would  have 
been  a  very  welcome  change  in  the  camp  diet,  but  the 
nature  of  the  ground  precluded  the  possibility  of  approach. 
The  last  I  saw  of  him  was  on  the  very  top  of  the  canyon 
walls,  where,  clearly  outlined  against  the  sky,  he  occupied 
a  protruding  ledge  overlooking,  and  actually  overhanging, 
the  giddy  depth  of  the  gorge  below  him.  Here  he  stood 
for  a  long  time  watching,  I  presume,  with  contemptuous 
glance,  the  movements  of  the  designful  pigmy  who 
dared  to  invade  his  realm.  I  have  no  doubt  that  in 
summer,  when  the  cool  shade  of  the  canyons  offers  an 
irresistible  attraction,  Bighorn  are  very  plentiful.  In  the 
centre  of  the  next  canyon  after  the  Horseshoe  I  found 
a  broad,   open  space,  in  this    instance  caused  evidently 


Camps  in  the  Canyons  of  the  Colorado  River,  311 

by  one  or  more  warm  springs,  The  gorge  was  here  very 
narrow — sixty  yards,  perhaps,  intervening  between  the 
opposite  walls,  which  rose  perpendicularly  from  the  ice. 
The  open  space,  where  you  could  see  the  green  water  rushing 
swiftly  along,  and  in  beautiful  contrast  to  the  snowy  pall 
around  it,  very  nearly  took  up  the  whole  breadth,  leaving 
a  narrow  band  of  ice  not  more  than  ten  feet  wide  on  either 
side.  Being  somewhat  doubtful  if  the  ice  would  carry  me 
and  my  horse,  I  reversed  the  order  of  precedence,  my 
pony  taking  the  jocrs,  which  he  did  with  a  cautious  diffi- 
dence by  no  means  usual  with  Indian-bred  ''cayuses.*' 
A  slight  cracking — at  the  moment,  however,  of  uncom- 
fortable import  — was  all  that  happened,  and  we  got 
across  this  and  another  similar  spot  in  safety. 

Close  to  the  mouth  of  this  short,  and,  as  I  believe,  as 
yet  nameless  canyon,  a  picturesque  tributary  "creek" 
flows  into  the  Colorado.  Its  waters  have  riven  a  stupen- 
dous fissure  in  the  mighty  walls  of  the  main  canyon, 
which  here  widens  out  very  considerably,  forming  a 
gigantic  amphitheatre  of  the  grandest  beauty.  Right  at 
the  mouth  of  the  creek,  formed,  I  presume,  by  the  rocky 
debris  washed  down  by  its  waters,  there  is  whut  Powell 
calls  a  ''canyon  park.'*  Fancy  a  patch,  some  200  acres 
in  extent,  of  comparatively  level  garden-land  dotted  with 
graceful  groves  of  trees — pine  and  cottonwood  predomi- 
nating— swept  on  three  sides  by  a  curving  reach  of  the 
river,  the  whole  shut  in  by  stupendous  walls  2000  feet 
high,  through  which,  to  the  right  and  left,  open  gigantic 
portals,  showing  on  one  side  vistas  of  mountain  highlands 
with  stretches  of  cedar  forests,  on  the  other,  the  gloomy 
depth  of  another  gorge.  In  summer,  when  vegetation 
lends  further  charm  to  it,  this  scene  must  be  of  surpassing 


312  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

beauty,  and  the  name  which  Powell  has  given  it — King- 
fisher  Park,  from  the  number  of  those  beautiful  birds  he 
found  playing  about — is  one  happily  chosen.  The  emerald- 
green  of  the  water,  the  darker  hue  of  the  foliage,  the 
far-away  blue  of  the  heaven,  and  the  streaks  of  crimson 
and  vermilion  that  ran  across  the  vast  walls  in  startling 
confusion — what  palette  but  that  of  Nature  could  repro- 
duce more  harmonious  tones  ? 

So  impressed  was  I  with  the  grandeur  of  this  spot,  that 
a  day  or  two  later  I  revisited  it  at  night,  when  the  fitful 
rays  of  a  bright  moon  shed  their  weird  charm  over  it.  The 
mellow  beams  starting  through  one  of  the  stupendous 
portals,  lighting  up  only  portions  of  the  amphitheatre,  cast 
long  shadows  of  the  jagged  and  pinnacled  brow  of  the 
cliff,  and  of  the  serrated  buttresses  forming  the  gateway, 
over  the  white  pall  on  the  river.  The  majestic  silence, 
the  twinkling  stars  overhead,  the  quiet  of  Eternity  that 
seemed  to  rest  over  all,  combined  to  make  it  one  of  the  most 
singularly  impressive  night-scenes  I  have  ever  enjoyed. 

Four  or  five  miles  below  this  canyon  I  passed  Beehive 
Point,  a  dome-shaped  buttress  of  rock,  on  the  bare  face 
and  sides  of  which  little  cells  have  been  excavated  by  the 
action  of  the  water.  In  these  pits  thousands  of  the  beau- 
tiful American  cliff  swallows  [Petrochilidon  lunifrons),  whose 
compact  villages  clinging  to  the  steep  faces  of  rocks  I  had 
noticed  in  most  parts  of  the  uplands,  have  built  their 
nests,  thus  giving  the  whole  the  appearance  of  a  colossal 
beehive,  though  the  swarm  of  boes  to  which  Powell,  who 
gave  it  this  name,  likened  the  fleetly- winged  army,  existed 
of  course,  at  this  season  of  the  year  only  in  my  imagina- 
tion. Opposite  this  point  another  of  the  numerous  amphi- 
theatre-shaped widenings  of  tlie  canyon  occurs.     Here,  a 


Camps  in  the  Canyons  of  the  Colorado  River,  313 

little  lower  again,  the  walls  attain  a  height  of  some  1500 
feet,  consisting  of  gigantic  steps  of  sandstone,  each  with  a 
face  of  naked  red  rock  and  a  glacis  clothed  with  the 
stunted  growth  of  gnarled  cedars,  fringed  by  a  belt  of 
snow,  giving  the  whole  a  quaintly  stratified  appearance ; 
bands  of  red,  green,  and  white  following  each  other  at 
regular  intervals.  A  day  or  two  later  I  visited  the  lower 
canyons,  beginning  with  the  gorge  rendered  memorable 
by  the  Ashley  Falls.  The  river  here  is  very  narrow,  the 
right  wall  vertical  for  many  hundred  feet,  and  then  sloping 
off;  the  left  towering  to  a  great  height.  At  the  foot  of 
the  latter  there  is  a  huge  mass  of  dehriSf  a  portion  of  which 
has  evidently  fallen  into  the  river.  Indeed,  one  or  two 
gigantic  boulders  occupy  the  centre  of  the  channel,  and 
here  the  waters  (so  Powell  says)  tumble  down  about 
twelve  feet,  and  are  broken  again  by  the  smaller  rocks 
into  a  rapid  below.  The  very  confused  mass  of  slabs  of 
ice,  rent  into  hundreds  of  different  shapes,  which  lay  in 
piles  about,  and  the  partly  open,  partly  closed  condition  of 
the  river  at  this  point,  made  it  difficult  to  recognize 
the  falls  from  Powell's  description,  and  it  was  nearly 
impossible  to  make  a  correct  estimate  of  the  height. 
By  keeping  to  one  side,  and  striking  the  river  again 
immediately  beneath  the  cascade,  I  avoided  passing  over 
them — a  feat  that  would  have  been  impossible  for  my 
horse. 

On  the  same  day  I  ascended  the  walls  of  the  canyon  at 
a  point  close  to  the  place  where  Powell  reports  having 
done  the  same.  The  climb  was  a  stiff  one,  but  by  lead- 
ing him  carefully,  I  even  got  my  very  sure  footed  pony, 
who  climbed  like  a  cat,  up  the  excessively  precipitous 
slope.     On  reaching  the  top  I  found  that  the  landscape  had 


314  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

lost  a  good  deal  of  its  mauvaises  terres  character.  There  were 
a  number  of  tiny  valleys,  each  containing  separate  patches, 
some  very  extensive,  of  stately  pines,  reminding  me  much 
of  Alpine  scenery.  In  summer  the  couDtry  must  be  ex- 
ceedingly beautiful,  in  rare  contrast  to  the  arid  stretches 
north  and  south  of  it ;  and  Powell  gives  a  charming  de- 
scription of  it.  Now  it  seemed  the  chosen  retreat  of 
great  numbers  of  the  graceful  Muledeer.  In  the  course 
of  an  afternoon's  ramble  I  roughly  counted  over  600. 
They  ran  in  small  bands  of  forty  or  fifty  head.  It 
was  just  the  time  they  shed  their  horns,  and  several 
bucks  I  scared  up  ran  off  with  only  one  antler  on  their 
heads.  In  the  far  distance  I  also  detected  with  m)'^  glass 
a  band  of  Wapiti,  who  were  feeding  on  a  high  table-land. 
Round  the  high  sandstone  "  buttes  "  that  cropped  up  in 
every  direction,  I  also  found  many  signs  of  Bighorn, 
though  I  saw  none  in  the  flesh  during  the  hour  or  two 
that  I  stopped  there.  In  summer  I  should  say  there 
must  be  great  numbers,  for  the  country,  wholly  Alpine  in 
its  character,  is  well  suited  to  Bighorn.  The  altitude  of 
the  country  is  very  high,  scarcely  below  7000  feet.  I 
was  rather  surprised  at  the  presence  of  so  much  game 
in  the  dead  of  winter ;  but  I  suppose  the  wreath  of 
high  peaks  that  surrounds  this  collection  of  natural  parks 
shelter  it  from  the  high  winds  which  animals  dread  more 
than  snow.  Powell,  who  visited  this  portion  on  two  or 
three  occasions,  speaks  of  the  country  as  being  full  of 
eveiy  kind  of  game — grizzlies,  wolverines,  and  mountain 
lions  included.  Red  Canyon,  which  I  only  explored  at 
the  beginning,  is  twenty-five  miles  long.  An  expedition 
on  foot  across  a  high  range  took  me  to  a  point  from 
whence  I  saw  the  mouth.     It  was,  however,  impossible  to 


Camps  in  the  Canyons  of  the  Colorado  River,  315 

get  down,  as  tlie  sides  were  more  or  less  sheer  precipices, 
2o00  Teet  in  height. 

The  following  day  I  managed,  by  going  a  little  further, 
to  find  a  place  where  a  person  who  is  not  giddy  could  get 
down.  A  scramble,  in  which  I  sacrificed  an  essential 
portion  of  my  unmentionables,  brought  me  back  to  the 
gloomy  depth.  It  was  my  last  day  in  the  canyons  of  the 
Colorado,  and,  much  to  my  regret,  I  had  to  turn  my  back 
on  the  unseen  wonders  of  the  Lodore,  the  Marble,  and  the 
other  great  canyons,  to  which  I  was  comparatively  so 
close.     Our   provisions  were  already  running  very  low, 

and,  besides  this,  Captain  Y had  to  return  to  Fort 

Bridger  with  the  escort  But  so  attracted  was  I  by  what 
I  had  seen  of  these  wo  derful  gorges,  and  also  by  some  of 
the  features  of  the  surrounding  country,  that  1  hope  to 
revisit  them  at  an  early  date,  and  penetrate  their  whole 
length,  for  I  know  of  no  more  enjoyable  manner  of  spend- 
ing a  summer,  combining  the  best  of  sport  with  the  plea- 
sures incidental  to  boat  travel  of  such  a  novel  character.* 
But  far  greater  than  the  rest  must  be  the  attractions  of 
the  Grand  Canyon,  where  all  the  various  features  of  the 
dozens  of  preceding  gorges  are  repeated  on  a  yet  grander 
scale.  Powell,  when  writing  of  the  morning  when  they 
started  into  the  Grand  Canyon,  says,  in  his  grapic  way, 
"We  are  three  quarters  of  a  mile  in  the  depth  of  the 
earth.  "We  have  an  unknown  distance  yet  to  run,  an 
unknown  river  yet  to  explore.     What  falls  there  are  we 

♦  The  boats  used  by  Powell  were  built  by  a  Chicago  builder.  I 
should  certainly  say  that  this  would  be  the  most  expedient  for  a 
sinailar  expedition.  In  any  case  there  ought  to  be  two  boats,  one 
lighter  than  the  otli  er,  to  act  as  pioneer  boat,  a  proceeding  impera>« 
tively  necessary  in  many  places. 


3l6  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

know  not,  what  rocks  beset  the  channel,  what  walls  rise 
over  the  river  we  know  not.  With  some  eagerness,  with 
Borae  anxiety,  and  some  misgiving,  we  enter  the  vast 
canyon,  and  are  carried  along  by  the  swift  water  through 
walls  which  rise  from  its  very  edge.'*  The  first  half-hour 
they  made  six  miles,  but  soon  low  falls  and  bad  rapids 
retarded  their  progress,  and  a  bad  wreckage  was  avoided  by 
a  mere  wonder.  A  thunderstorm  overtook  them  in  the 
depth  of  the  canyon,  and  three  days  afterwards  one  of  the 
boats  went  over  a  fall,  but  the  man  who  was  in  it  was  saved. 
The  Grand  Canyon  is  by  far  the  longest,  and  also  the  last. 
It  lies  in  three  Territories — Utah,  Nevada,  and  Arizona, 
the  latter  Territory  being  distinguished  by  the  most 
weirdly  bizarre  formation  that  can  be  seen  in  any  portion 
of  the  globe.  The  illustration  I  append  gives  one  but  a  faint 
idea  of  the  reality.  At  its  mouth,  where  the  Rio  Virgen 
flows  into  the  Colorado,  there  is  a  small  settlement,  Call- 
ville,  up  to  which  from  its  mouth  the  main  stream  is 
navigable.  Here,  on  August  31,  1869,  the  first  explora- 
tion ended.  Three  months  and  seven  days  were  the 
adventurous  travellers  going  through  the  gorges,  a  journey 
as  keenly  interesting  as  any  our  much-travelled-over 
globe  afibrds. 

Another  interesting  feature  of  the  lower  canyons, 
especially  the  Marble  and  Grand,  are  the  remains  of 
human  habitations  which  belonged  to  an  extinct  race, 
enjoying  a  far  higher  degree  of  civilization  than  the 
present  inhabitants  of  the  desert  country  around — i.e, 
roving  tribes  of  Navajo  Indians.  The  first  house  of  these 
clifi-dwellers  discovered  by  Powell  was  on  a  narrow  shelt 
of  rock  about  200  feet  over  the  water,  on  the  face  of  the 
wall.     The  building  was  once  probably  three  stories  high, 


Camps  in  the  Canyons  of  the  Colorado  River,  317 

the  lowest  story  is  yet  almost  intact,  while  the  second  is 
much  broken  down.  The  walls  are  of  stone  laid  in  mortar 
withmuch  regularity.  Round  the  house  on  the  face  of 
the  cliff  were  numerous  rude  etchings  and  hieroglyphics. 
Fifteen  miles  below  a  second  group  of  these  buildings  was 
discovered,  and  here  a  "  kiva/'  or  underground  chamber 
in  which  religious  ceremonies  were  performed,  was  found 
in  good  condition.  The  approach  to  these  dwellings  seems 
to  have  been  by  ladders  or  narrow  stairways  cut  into  the 
rock  by  hand.  They  usually  occupy  the  most  inaccessible 
cliffs,  and  are  provided  with  other  means  of  natural  defence 
against  the  incursions  of  enemies.  For  the  probable  origin 
of  these  canyon  cliff-dwellings  we  have  to  go  back  to  the 
Sixteenth  Century,  to  the  time  of  the  first  settlement  of 
Mexico  by  the  Spanish.  Many  expeditions  were  sent, 
though  none  of  them  returned,  into  the  Far  Western 
country  now  comprised  in  Arizona  and  New  Mexico  by 
the  greedy  European  conquerors,  who  evinced  a  monstrous 
lust  fcr  gold  and  an  energetic  partiality  for  saving  souls. 
Powell  mentions  one  of  these  heathen  hieroglyphic  designs. 
On  one  side  of  the  picture  there  is  a  lake,  and  near  by 
stands  a  priest  pouring  water  on  the  head  of  a  native, 
on  the  other  side  an  Indian  with  a  rope  round  his  throat : 
lines  run  from  these  two  groups  to  a  central  figure,  a  man 
with  a  beard  and  in  full  Spanish  dress.  The  interpretation 
given  to  it  by  Powell  is :  '*  Be  baptized  as  this  saved 
heathen ;  or  be  hanged  as  that  damned  one.'' 

In  view  of  the  manifold  as  yet  very  hastily,  if  at  aU, 
examined  objects  of  prominent  interest,  it  is  somewhat 
singular  that  more  than  a  decade  has  been  allowed  to  pass 
without  a  repetition  of  Powell's  trip.^ 

»  If  my  feeble  attempt  to  do  justice  to  a  most  enticing  subject  hasi 


3 1 8  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

A  word  or  two  before  I  close  must  be  devoted  to  tbe 
questions  anent  some  topographical  points.  I  have  said 
that  the  Colorado  offers  an  exceptionally  rich  field  for 
geological  research.  To  a  person  studjdng  the  physical 
geography  of  the  country  without  a  knowledge  of  its 
geology,  it  would  seem  very  strange  that  the  river  should 
cut  through  vast  chains  of  mountains,  when,  apparently, 
it  might  have  passed  around  them,  on  one  side  or  the 
other,  where  the  mountains  are  but  hills,  existing  valleys 
offering  ready  channels.  The  first  explanation  suggesting 
itself  is,  that  it  followed  previously  formed  fissures  through 
the  different  ranges.  But  this,  the  modern  school  of  geolo- 
gists tells  us,  would  be  incorrect,  for  proofs  are  abundant 
that  the  river  cut  its  own  channel,  that  the  canyons  are 
80-caUed  gorges  of  erosion.  If,  again,  we  ask,  why  did 
not  the  stream  avoid  these  huge  obstructions  altogether, 
rather  than  pass  through  them  ?  the  answer  is,  that  the 
river  was  there  before  the  mountains  were  formed ;  not 
before  the  rocks  of  which  the  mountains  are  composed 
were  deposited,  but  before  the  formations  were,  to  quote 
Major  Powell,  "  folded  so  as  to  make  mountain  ranges. 

Professor  Newberry,  who  first  examined  this  region, 
in  his  report  on  the  geology  of  the  country,  observes, 
concerning  the  creation  of  the  great  gorges  :  "  Having 
constantly  this  question  in  mind,  and  examining  with  all 
possible  care  the  structure  of  the  great  canyons  which  we 
entered,  I  everywhere  found  evidence  of  the  exclusive  action 
of  water  in  their  formation.  The  opposite  sides  of  even  the 
deepest  chasms  showed  perfect  correspondence  of  strati- 
fication, and  nowhere  displacement,'^  and  this  would  of 

by  chance,  instilled  the  requisite  spirit  of  adventure  into  any  of  mj 
readers,  I  shall  be  glad  to  communicate  with  him  or  them. 


Camps  in  the  Canyons  of  the  Colorado  River,  .^ig 

course  prove  other  natural  forces  not  to  have  been  at  work. 
Professor  Hall  lias  advanced  some  interesting  speculations 
concerning  the  future  of  the  Colorado  river  canyons.  As 
is  known,  he  maintains  that  in  the  future  of  the  Niagara 
Falls  there  will  come  a  time  when  the  great  fall  can  no 
longer  be  maintained  by  the  undermining  of  the  limestone 
buttress  from  which  it  leaps,  and  that  it  will  be  replaced 
by  a  rapid,  a  stage  in  which  two  of  the  most  interesting 
canyons  of  the  Colorado,  namely,  Grand  and  Marble,  are 
at  present.  In  these  two  gorges  a  descent  of  1600  feet  is 
accomplished  within  a  comparatively  short  distance  entirely 
by  rapids,  where  formerly,  probably,  more  or  less,  extensive 
cataracts  took  their  place.  The  incidental  discovery  made 
by  Powell  during  his  expedition,  namely,  that,  in  canyons 
through  soft  strata,  the  river  ran  invariably  much 
smoother  and  quicker  than  in  those  of  hard  rock,  seems  to 
bear  out  this  speculation. 


320  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

CAMPS   IN   COWBOYLAND. 

The  Btock-raising  business  in  the  West — Its  aspect  and  history- 
How  it  was  conducted,  and  how  it  is  now  managed — Different 
manners  of  starting  into  it — On  trail — Round-up — Tlie  Cowboy*« 
Hfe — What  a  man  most  needs — Hospitality  of  the  West. 

As  the  stock-raising  business  in  the  "West  is  deservedly 
attracting  a  good  deal  of  attention  among  the  more 
adventurous  class  of  our  educated  young  men,  I  am 
tempted  to  dwell  with  some  detail  on  its  chief  features. 
The  stockman's  life  out  West  is  one  offering  certain 
attractive  inducements  to  the  English  character ;  for  not 
only  does  his  vocation  bring  with  it  an  infinite  amount  of 
exercise  on  the  bright  breezy  Plains,  in  a  temperate  zone, 
in  the  most  delightfully  bracing  climate  in  the  world,  but 
it  is  a  Hfe  where  manly  sport  is  an  ever-present  element. 
The  cowboy  and  his  horse  are  one.  The  interest  he  takes 
in  his  equine  friends  is  not  of  the  vicious  nature  to  whicli 
our  national  attachment  to  the  equine  race  has  been 
degraded  in  our  own  land ;  it  is  healthier  in  aU  respects. 
If  the  young  settler  goes  far  enough  West,  shooting  of 
the  best  kind  can  be  combined  with  the  duties  of  his 
life.     Wapiti  and  Bighorn  are  often  either  a   day's   or 


Camps  in  Cowboy  land.  321 

a  two  days'  ride,  and  an  encounter  with  the  dreaded 
grizzly  roaming  freely  over  the  uplands,  will  test  his 
nerves.  It  is  a  rough  life ;  indeed,  coming  straight  from 
his  English  club  existence,  it  will  at  first,  perhaps,  repel 
him.  But  the  roughness  has  its  good  sides,  a  short  ex- 
perience generally  sufficing  to  weed  out  the  efieminate  and 
unmanly.  With  the  exception  of  Australia,  which  I  do  not 
know,  I  opine  that  in  no  country  will  the  traveller  see,  in 
the  most  out-of-the-way  nooks  and  corners,  such  happy 
faces,  such  sterling  manliness,  as  among  stockmen  in 
districts  where  they  are  often  several  months  without 
seeing  a  human  being. 

Even  much  further  East,  in  Iowa  and  other  central 
states,  where  civilization  has  long  subdued  wild  nature,  we 
find  some  very  happy  types  of  small  English  colonies. 
Thus,  to  give  a  well-known  instance,  we  have  the  Le  Mars 
Colony  in  Iowa.  "  St.  Kames,"  the  able  correspondent  of 
the  Field,  has  given  a  pleasant  picture  of  it.  With  much 
truth,  he  likens  the  sight  to  a  metropolitan  picnic  in  a 
provincial  town.  The  streets  are  filled  with  English  ladies, 
and  English  gentlemen,  and  English  children,  and  English 
babies.  The  young  fellows  have  about  them  the  unmis- 
takable hall-mark  of  the  public  schools,  the  universities, 
the  services ;  and  the  hard  work  that  is  performed  bears 
more  the  air  of  pleasurable  picnic  roughing-it  than 
genuine  toil.  No  caste  is  lost  by  the  young  man  who, 
dissatisfied  with  the  slower  returns  of  farming,  engages  in 
any  of  the  numerous  occupations — we  should  call  them 
trades — of  a  new  colony.  The  auctioneer,  the  butcher,  the 
livery-stable  keeper,  provided  they  are  recognized  by 
society  at  Le  Mars  as  gentlemen,  are  not  considered  to 
degrade  their  good  old  names  by  such   experiments  in 


322  Camps  m  the  Rockies. 

new  enterprise,  and  continue  on  the  footing  of  gentlemen 
with  the  young  farmers.  You  see  the  heir-apparent  to  an 
old  English  earldom  mowing,  assisted  by  the  two  sons 
of  a  viscount ;  you  can  watch  the  brother  of  an  earl  feeding 
the  thrashing-machine.  The  happy  sunburnt  faces  of  the 
well  set-up,  strong-backed,  young  Britishers  are  pleasant 
features  in  the  rich,  agricultural  landscape.  If  you  would 
see  the  English  character  to  its  full  advantage,  hie  from 
Pall  Mall  and  St.  James's  Street  to  some  Colorado  ranche 
or  Kansas  farm.  There,  in  not  a  few  instances,  you  will 
find  the  survival  of  what  has  gained  England  her  grand 
repute — sterling  manliness  and  uncompromising  honesty. 
But  forewarned  is  in  this  case  forearmed.  Let  not  the 
young  emigrant  expect  to  find  in  the  Western  farmer  or 
stock-raiser  men  of  the  English  prototype.  There  are  no 
broad-skirted  coats,  bufi-leggings, ruddy,  beef-fed  exteriors; 
no  rural  farmhouses,  with  thatched  roof  and  creepers 
trailing  over  the  front  of  the  cosy-looking  dwelling.  The 
men  and  their  houses  you  will  see  in  the  West  will  be  in 
pronounced  contrast  to  such  home  impressions  ;  but  as  they 
have  been  described  hundreds  of  times,  I  need  not  say  more 
about  them.  Of  the  many  difficulties  which  beset  the  path 
of  the  young  Britisher,  none  wiU  be  so  formidable  as  those 
consequent  upon  the  necessary  unlearning  of  his  British 
idiosyncrasies,  and  as  long  as  he  manages  to  do  this 
without  pecuniary  losses  he  is  fortunate. 

There  is  a  deal  of  wisdom  given  in  the  reported  advice 
of  an  old  settler  to  an  Englishman  who  was  about  to  send 
his  son  to  America.  "  Can  you  trust  me  ?  "  says  the  settler. 
'•'  Yes,"  said  the  father,  "  we  know  you  long  enough  to  do 
that."  "Then  trust  me  with  the  capital  you  intend  giving 
Vour  son,  and  I  will  dispose  of  it  to  his  best  advantage." 


Camps  in  Cowboy Imid,  323 

The  father  hands  him  notes  to  the  amount  of  2000/. 
The  settler  strikes  a  match,  and  proceeds  to  set  fire  to 
the  notes.  The  irate  and  astonished  parent  extinguishes 
the  flames  and  demands  an  explanation.  He  gets  it  by 
the  settler  telling  him  that  he  was  about  to  dispose  of 
the  son's  capital  to  his  best  advantage ;  that  the  money 
would  be  wasted  before  the  youth  would  begin  to  work  for 
himself;  and  that  by  burning  the  notes  much  valuable 
time  would  be  saved  in  his  son's  life. 

Before  I  proceed  to  enter  upon  the  details  of  the  ranche 
business  in  the  trans-Missourian  West,  I  must  mention 
that  what  I  say  of  its  rough  sides  only  holds  good  for  the 
new  sections  of  the  country.  In  not  a  few  of  the  large 
Colorado  cattle-ranches  you  will  find  yourself  surrounded 
by  luxuries  of  every  kind.  But  as  this  is  not  a  region 
where  a  new  comer  is  likely  to  start  on  "  his  own  hook/'  I 
have  purposely  confined  myself  to  the  rough  sides  of  the 
picture. 

Accustomed  as  we  are  to  large  figures  when  examining 
statistics  relating  to  the  domestic  or  foreign  economy  of 
the  United  States,  the  vast  surplus  of  the  two  last  years' 
harvests  in  that  country,*  no  less  than  England's  very 
rapidly  increasing  cattle  trade  with  the  United  States,  have 
of  late  served  to  bring  before  us  in  more  than  usually 
startling  manner  the  dangers  threatening  our  agricul- 
turists by  the  nearly  unlimited  food-producing  -oapacities 
of  America. 

Of  special  interest,  under  the  prevailing  circum- 
stances, is  the  questiDn   of  raising   cattle  on    the  free 

>  I  am  writing  of  1879-80.  The  figures  I  mention  can  be  con- 
sidered trustworthy,  for  they  were  furnished  to  me  by  the  Chief  of 
the  Bureau  of  Statistics  at  Washington. 

y  2 


324  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

public  lands  of  Western  Territories ;  and  recently  pub- 
lished accounts  of  a  perfectly  trustworthy  nature,  no  lesa 
than  the  results  of  the  personal  investigations  of  the 
Royal  Agricultural  Interests  Commission,  only  enhance 
it ;  for  they  prove  beyond  doubt  that  stock-raising  under 
such  very  favourable  circumstances  as  exist  in  some  of 
the  North -Western  districts  of  the  Union  has  a  great 
future  before  it. 

If  we  examine  the  origin  of  Western  stock-raising,  we 
find  that,  like  so  many  other  institutions  in  the  United 
States,  it  took  its  first  start  while  the  country  was  yet  in 
the  throes  of  its  last  great  war.  Texas  at  that  time  was 
still  a  much-neglected  territory — a  safe  refuge  for  fugitives 
from  justice,  disguised  with  long  beards,  quaint  aliases, 
and  broad  sombreros.  This  immense  expanse,  consisting 
mainly  of  prairies — Texas  has  274,356  square  miles,  or 
more  than  France,  Portugal,  Belgium,  and  Switzerland 
combined — was  the  home  of  enormous  herds  of  semi-wild 
cattle  of  a  very  inferior  breed,  "  all  horns  and  tails,"  as  the 
frontiersman  said  of  them.  Their  wild  eyes  and  wide- 
spreading  horns  were  in  keeping  with  their  forbidding, 
raw-boned,  ungainly  aspect,  and  fierce  tempers.  There 
were  millions  of  them.  In  1860  the  tax  returns,  of  course 
considerably  under-estimated,  showed  2,733,267  head  of 
cattle,  and  172,243  working  oxen,  in  Texas ;  and  not  a  few 
of  the  astonishingly  lazy  and  ignorant  rancheros — mostly 
of  Spanish  or  Mexican  origin — could  boast  of  herds 
exceeding  50,000  head,  and  some  few,  if  accounts  are 
true,  owned  as  many  as  100,000.  They  were,  however, 
of  little  pecuniary  benefit  to  their  owners ;  the  absence  of 
any  market  and  foreign  demand  on  the  part  of  Northern 
neighbours  made  them  very  nearly  as  valueless  as  were  at 


Camps  in  Cowboy  land.  325 

the    same   period  the  countless  "beef"    on  the   rolling 
pampas  of  South  America.' 

Towards  the  close  of  the  great  national  struggle,  when 
meat,  cereals,  and,  in  fact,  every  kind  of  food,  rose  in  the 
Northern  States  to  hitherto  unknown  prices,  some  venture- 
some Government  contractors  tried  the  experiment  of 
driving  small  herds  of  these  cattle  from  Texas  to  the 
Northern  armies.  In  the  beginning  only  small "  bunches  " 
of  two  or  three  hundred  travelled  that  weary  journey  over 
the  subsequently  so  historic  trails  leading  from  their 
prairie  homes  to  Missouri  and  other  Eastern  states.  The 
profits  were  enormous,  for  steers  could  in  those  good  days 
be  bought  for  about  25«.,  and  sold  at  the  end  of  their  two 
or  three  months'  overland  journey  for  1h ;  they  were,  in 
in  fact,  so  large  that  the  secret  soon  oozed  out,  and  men 
with  larger  capital,  and  unfettered  by  Government  con- 
tracts, "  started  in,*'  and  for  a  year  or  two — till  at  last  the 
astoundingly  easy-going  rancheros  of  Texas  found  out 
the  increased  value  of  their  stock — profits  remained  as 
high.  Gradually  they  were  cut  down  finer ;  for  rapidly 
as  money  is  made,  and  incomparably  higher  as  are  the 
profits  attainable  by  a  successful  speculation  in  the  States 
than  in  slower  and  surer-going  Europe,  the  fact  that  a 
man  could  double  or  quadruple  his  capital  in  four  months, 
running  no  very  great  risks,  allured  great  numbers  of 
Eastern  men  to  embark  their  own  and  their  friends'  money 
in  stock- driving  operations.     This  was,  it  must  be  remem- 

«  In  1879  the  United  States  contained  more  than  33,000,000  head 
of  cattle;  and  as  12,000,000  were  milch  cows,  the  increase  06  the 
country's  stock,  after  all  home  and  foreign  consumption  is  covered, 
can  hardly  he  estimated  at  less  than  a  million  and  a  half  per  annum  \ 
under  the  circumstances  startling  figures. 


326  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

bered,  long  before  cattle  or  meat  export  to  Europe  liad 
taken  root ;  hence  it  was  but  natural  that  soon,  with 
inci  cased  numbers  of  drivers,  competition  decreased  the 
profits — first  to  75  or  100  per  cent.,  and  then  gradually 
even  to  lower  rates.  In  the  eyes  of  the  men  who  had  first 
started,  the  business  was  soon  played  out.  Not  so,  how- 
ever, was  the  inventive  American  genius.  Hitherto  the 
cattle  business  was  simple,  that  of  a  drover  buying  stock 
in  a  cheap  market  and  selling  it  with  a  good  profit  in 
Northern  towns.  What  was  easier,  asked  the  keen-eved 
speculator,  than  to  do  as  the  now  millionaire  Texan  cattle 
kings  did,  let  nature  work  for  you  ?  Yonder  lay  the  vast 
stretches  of  the  so-called  American  Desert,  ranging  from 
the  Mississippi,  in  those  days  the  Western  boundary  of 
civilization,  to  the  Sierra  Nevadas — a  track  1500  miles  long 
and  2000  wide — on  the  Eastern  confines  of  which  the  new 
Territories  of  Kansas,  Arkansas,  and  Nebraska  were  just 
then  constituting  themselves,  with  that  rapidity  peculiar  to 
the  migratory  Yankee,  to  whom  the  making  of  laws  and 
building  of  towns  is  a  natural  occupation.  While  tens  of 
thousands  of  half-crazed  mining  emigrants  were  crossing 
the  Plains,  pushing  Westwards  to  the  new  gold  countries, 
many  more,  belonging  as  a  rule  to  a  far  better  and 
thriftier  class  of  Eastern-raised  folk,  were  crowding  into 
the  new  Territories,  with  the  intention  of  settling  down  as 
farmers.  What  wonder  that  Horace  Greeley's  precious 
advice,  '*  Go  West,  young  man,"  was  also  applied  to  the 
bovine  race  P  Yery  speedily  the  new  settlers  awoke  to  the 
vast  profits  of  stock-raising,  in  countries  where  not  only 
land  but  also  grazing  costs  nothing,  and  where  the 
incidental  expenses  of  a  farm  are,  to  European  ideas, 
exceptionally  low. 


Camps  in  Cowboy  land,  327 

Soon  a  regular  trade  in  Texas  cattle  was  started,  and 
great  numbers  of  the  shaggy  Texas  steers  were  driven 
North,  over  *'  trails  "  that  soon  became  famous  in  Western 
history.  Cities  sprang  up  along  the  route,  whose  entire 
existence  depended  upon  the  business.  Their  character 
was  the  **  worst  of  the  worst/'  To  give  an  instance,  the 
history  of  Ellsworth  may  be  mentioned.  This  town, 
built  in  a  fortnight,  was  soon  a  recognized  centre. 
It  was  most  favourably  situated  250  miles  from  the 
Missouri  border,  and,  rapid  as  success  is  in  those  regions, 
it  had  soon  outstripped  its  competitors.  Mixing  with 
**  cowmen,'*  as  all  cattle-raisers  are  generally  termed  out 
West,  you  will  even  now  hear  of  the  wondrously  reckless 
life  in  that  mushroom  *'  stock  "  town.  The  profits  were 
80  enormous,  wages  so  high,  and  money  so  plentiful,  that 
bagnios  and  gambling-hells  out  of  number,  each  owned 
by  some  municipal  official,  sprang  up,  and  life  was  as 
"  cheap  **  as  in  a  mining  camp  of  the  worst  class.  To  give 
a  typical  instance  of  the  speedy  manner  by  which  Western 
towns  are  apt  to  *'  regulate  "  themselves,  it  may  be  men- 
tioned that,  after  having  passed  resolutions  stigmatizing 
the  conduct  of  the  municipal  government  of  Ellsworth,  the 
"  cowboys  "  one  night  rose,  and  quietly  shot  the  mayor, 
the  police  magistrate,  the  city  marshal,  the  chief  of  police, 
and  six  policemen,  besides  one  or  two  minor  officials  who 
took  part  with  their  superiors.  After  a  three-days'  state 
of  siege,  during  which  the  boys  held  the  town,  and  shot 
at  every  head  that  showed  itself  out  of  window  or  door, 
order  was  restored.  Since  then  — similar  to  most  other 
like  instances  of  self-purged  settlements — Ellsworth  is  a 
model  of  order  and  quiet. 

Raising  cattle  on  the  free  public  land  of  the  Great  West 


328  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

can  be  done  at  the  absurdly  low  rate  of  from  4s.  to  5».  per 
head ;  for  when  once  the  ranche  or  dwelling  is  built,  an 
affair  that  need  not  cost  more  than  60/.  to  100/.,  and  youf 
provisions  and  horses  bought,  there  remains  absolutely 
no  other  expense  to  be  provided  for  but  the  wages  of 
the  stockmen  or  "  cowboys/'  each  of  whom,  for  his  6/. 
monthly  pay,  will,  when  on  the  range,  take  care  of  1000 
head  of  cattle.  Fortunately  for  the  farmers  of  Europe,  the 
frontier  rancheman — probably  hundreds  of  miles  from 
the  next  railway  station,  and  the  latter  again  1000  or 
1500  miles  from  his  great  market,  Chicago — is  handi- 
capped by  the  enormous  expense  of  the  transport  of  his 
"  beeves."  Mr.  Dun,  the  author  of  an  interesting  paper 
on  cattle-raising,  states  that  the  cost  of  transit  from  the 
elopes  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  to  Liverpool  is  not  less 
than  8/.  per  head,  which  adds  quite  2\d.  a  pound  to  the 
dead  weight  of  each  steer.' 

But  to  return  to  the  growth  of  stock-raising.  A  further 
very  great  impulse  was  given  to  it  by  the  building  of 
the  Pacific  Railroad,  which  was  begun  sixteen  years  ago. 
As  more  emigrants  from  the  East  continued  to  pour  in, 
land  became  valuable,  and  the  cattlemen  began  to  move 
Westwards  to  new  districts,  where  their  herds  could 
graze  free  of  expense  on  the  Plains. 

Colorado  next  became  the  goal  of  the  West-bound 
stock-raisers,  and  at  the  present  day  that  vast  State — it 
became  such  in  1876,  and  hence  is  called  the  Centennial 

•  From  statements  I  heard  I  should  have  put  this  at  even  a  higher 
figure,  for  the  freight  rates  of  the  Union  Pacific  are,  as  there  is  no 
competition,  enormous.  According  to  the  report  of  the  Royal  Com. 
mission,  the  cost  appears  a  little  higher,  namely,  from  9Z.  to  102, 
per  ox. 


Camps  in  Cowboyland,  329 

State — with  its  105,000  square  miles,  and  a  population 
under  200,000  souls,  is,  in  the  eyes  of  stock-raisers,  prac- 
tically speaking  already  "  full ;''  that  is,  all  land  available 
for  this  purpose,  with  the  necessary  water  frontage  on  a 
creek  or  river,  is  now  occupied.  To-day,  Wyoming, 
Montana,  Idaho,  and  New  Mexico,  no  less  than  the 
extreme  Western  portions  of  Texas,  are  the  most  desirable 
countries  in  which  to  "  locate  '*  a  cattle  ranche. 

Since  1875  the  profits  have  been  greatly  reduced,  by  the 
increase  of  freight  rates  and  decrease  of  Chicago  prices  for 
meat.  The  first  shows  a  rise  of  quite  100  per  cent,  since 
1878.  Before  that  year  the  car  holding  twenty-one 
animals  cost  $50  (from  the  Plains  to  Chicago  or  St. 
Louis).  Of  late  the  charge  is  $110.  Live-meat  prices 
in  either  of  these  places  have  decreased  quite  25  per 
cent.  Nevertheless,  the  profits,  as  the  Royal  Commis- 
sioners say,  are  still  fully  33  per  cent,  per  annum  if  the 
rancheman  has  no  bad  luck,  such  as  severe  winters,  &c. 

In  the  same  way  that  most  Americans  with  difficulty 
realize  the  conditions  of  tenure  in  England,  and  invariably 
discover,  when  finally  they  have  mastered  the  details  of 
entailed  ownership,  a  strong  incentive  in  it  to  "skin"  the 
land — a  proceeding  arising  necessarily,  as  they  think, 
from  the  absence  of  those  selfish  motives  to  improve  it — 
in  the  same  way,  I  repeat,  does  land  tenure  in  the  Union 
puzzle  us.* 

To  Old  World  ears  it  sounds  strange  to  be  told  that  you 
or  I,  reader,  can  to-day  start  for  any  of  the  three  or  four 

*  I  am  speaking  here  of  legitimate  land  holdings  ;  for,  as  everybody 
knows,  the  lobby  system  in  the  United  States  Houses  of  Legislature 
has  opened  the  doors  to  "  land-grabbers,"  who  work  their  little  game 
an  a  very  vast  scale* 


330  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

last-named  Territories,  pick  out  a  good  "  range,"  oi 
district  for  grazing,  as  yet  unoccupied,  drive  on  to  it  a 
herd  of  10,000  cattle,  select  a  suitable  spot  near  to  a  con- 
venient creek,  and  there  build  our  ranche  or  farmhouse, 
fence  in  50  or  100  acres  for  hay  land,  and,  in  fact 
make  ourselves  entirely  at  home,  disporting  ourselves  as 
virtual  owners  of  the  land — without  paying  one  penny  for 
it,  or  outstepping  any  Territorial  or  United  States  statute, 
or  doing  what  is  not  perfectly  lawful.  There  is  no  trouble 
about  title-deeds,  surveyors,  or  lawyers  ;  possession  is  nine 
points  of  the  law,  sturdy  defence  of  your  property  being 
the  tenth.  No  man  has  the  "  right  by  law  "  to  prevent 
another  man  driving  as  many  head  of  cattle  as  he  chooses 
on  to  his  range;  but  here  local  cattle  laws  come  in. 
As  in  every  mining  camp,  ranchemen  have  their  own 
statutes  unanimously  agreed  upon  and  tacitly  obeyed  by 
every  member.  The  stranger  who  would  intrude  his  own 
herd  on  a  range  already  full,  would,  after  receiving  one  or 
two  friendly  warnings  to  "  move  on,"  be  made  acquainted 
with  that  pecuKarly  "Western  process  of  being  "  bounced.'* 
But  this  occurs  very  rarely  indeed. 

Very  naturally  this  state  of  things,  existing  only  in  so 
called  "  un surveyed ''  districts,  can  only  continue  so  long 
as  the  supply  of  Plains  available  for  grazing  purposes  lasts. 
Huge  as  Uncle  Sam's  possessions  available  for  cattle  ranges 
are,  they  are  nevertheless  approaching  exhaustion ;  and, 
indeed,  it  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  what  possibly  could 
resist  the  energetic  onslaughts  of  his  speculative  children, 
pressing  Westward  with  unabating  impetuosity.  A  spirit 
well  epitomized  in  the  saying  "  If  hell  lay  in  the  "West, 
they  would  cross  heaven  to  reach  it,"  which  has  even  found 
place  in  the  Report  of  the  Royal  Commissioners  on  Agri- 


Camps  in  Cowboy  land,  331 

cultural  Interests — certainly  the  last  place  where  one 
would  expect  such  unparliamentary  phraseology.  This  as 
yet  unexhausted  supply  makes  contentions  among  frontier 
settlers  respecting  land  very  rare ;  for,  unlike  the  mining 
claim-jumper,  landsharks  find  it  not  worth  while  risking 
life  in  enforcing  their  fictitious  claims  of  ownership,  when, 
perhaps,  twenty  or  thirty  miles  farther  up  the  valley,  land 
as  good  for  their  purpose  awaits  them. 

To  make  American  land  tenure,  not  only  in  the  West 
but  also  in  the  East,  more  intelligible  to  the  reader,  let 
me  recapitulate  broadly  the  most  prominent  features  of 
the  law  on  this  subject. 

The  whole  of  the  United  States '  must  for  this  purpose 
be  divided  into  two  categories — the  surveyed  and  unsur- 
veyed.  To  the  former  belong,  of  course,  all  the  Eastern 
States,  also  Kansas,  Nebraska,  Colorado,  and  some  few 
other  portions  of  the  "  Great  West."  California  I  leave 
quite  aside,  as,  for  Europe,  only  its  vast  mineral  and  wheat- 
growing  resources  come  into  play — at  least  as  long  as  the 
Great  Pacific  Railroad  is  not  compelled  by  wholesale  com- 
petition to  lower  its  exorbitant  freight  rates.  To  the  '*  un- 
surveyed'*  belong,  broadly  speaking,  Montana,  Wyoming, 
Idaho,  portions  of  Oregon,  Washington  Territory,  New 
Mexico,  and  Arizona — the  latter,  on  account  of  its  sterile 
soil  is,  I  understand,  of  little  value  for  stock-raising, — 
here  ownership  rests  with  the  first  comer,  until  at  a  future 
period  the  Territory  is  surveyed  by  Government  officials, 
and  the  land  mapped  out  and  divided  into  districts,  each 
coming  under  a  Government  district  official.     Those  that 

•  With  the  exception  of  the  State  of  Texas,  where  it  is  State  pro- 
perty, land  in  the  United  States  is  the  property  of  the  Federal 
Grovemment. 


2f3^  Camps  m  the  Rockies, 

have  "  located  "  previous  to  this  period  are  left  in  undis- 
puted possession,  provided  they  have  improved  the  land— < 
that  is,  either  cultivated  it,  fence  it  in,  or,  as  would  be  in  the 
case  of  stock-raisers,  have  cattle  of  their  own  grazing  on 
it.  A  nominal  fee  secures  to  the  settler  a  Government 
title.  In  Montana  and  W3^oming  cattlemen  consider  that 
each  head  of  cattle  would  require  from  fifteen  to  twenty- 
five  acres  if  the  land  was  enclosed.  This  gives  one  some 
idea  of  the  requisite  extent  of  a  range  for  a  large  herd. 

The  "  squatter's  right,"  in  contradistinction  to  "  pre- 
emption," which  latter  is  the  taking  possession  of  unsur- 
veyed  land  by  building  on  it,  or  improving  it,  comes  into 
play  in  the  case  of  unoccupied  but  surveyed  land.  By  it, 
every  adult  who  shows  that  he  intends  to  live  on  the  land 
himself,  acquiring  it  for  that  purpose  only,  and  not  for 
speculating,  is  entitled  to  160  acres  ;  or  if  the  land  comes 
under  the  denomination  of  desert  land,  under  which  head 
the  Great  Plains  generally  are  placed,  to  620  acres ;  for 
this  surveyed  land  Government  charges  the  settler  5«.  per 
acre  (the  620  acres  of  desert  land  being  considered,  in 
point  of  payment,  equal  to  160  acres  of  good  soil)  distri- 
buted in  certain  proportions  over  five  years,  thus  enabling 
the  poorest  to  found  a  home.  Of  course,  unoccupied  land 
can  be  bought  to  any  extent  for  ready  money  from 
Government,  but  naturally  this  occurs  rarely,  as  by  moving 
farther  West,  land,  as  we  have  seen,  can  be  had  for 
nothing.  If  the  settler,  occupying  soil  by  squatter's  right, 
has  grown-up  sons,  they  in  their  turn  can  benefit  by  the 
same  Act ;  the  intention  of  Government  being  the  high 
cultivation  of  small  expanses,  rather  than  the  careless  or 
only  partial  improvement  of  larger  tracts.  These  are  the 
broad  outlines  upon  which  rests  land  tenure  in  the  United 


Campx  in  Cowboy  land.  333 

States.  The  principle  of  demand  and  supply,  which 
governs  the  mercantile  intercourse  of  civilized  people, 
comes  into  play  beyond  the  Mississippi  very  much  in  the 
same  way.  Out  West  laws  make  themselves,  but  not  a 
daj^  before  the  want  of  them  is  felt.  And  in  the  same 
way,  as  long  as  the  supply  of  land  exceeds  the  demand, 
that  commodity,  in  an  unimproved  state,  will  be  valueless, 
or  ver}^  nearly  so. 

If  we  compare  the  Northern  Territories  with  the 
Southern,  with  the  intention  of  examining  their  adapta- 
bility for  stock-raising,  and  their  several  advantages  and 
disadvantages  as  fields  for  English  immigration,  we  at 
once  strike  at  the  only  great  source  of  danger  for  such 
enterprises,  namely,  the  climate.  The  greater  part  of 
Wyoming,  Montana,  and  Idaho,  all  of  which  are  traversed 
by  the  numerous  branching  chains  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, are  four,  five,  and  the  first-mentioiied  six  and  seven 
thousand  feet  over  the  sea,  exposed  to  very  severe  winters. 
The  Southern  Territories,  such  as  New  Mexico,  Western 
TexuS;  and  those  few  portions  of  Southern  Colorado  still 
unoccupied,  are  equally  liable  to  sufier  from  the  other 
extreme — great  summer  heats,  producing  every  few  years 
prolonged  droughts ;  for  it  must  be  remembered  that  the 
cliiuate  is  a  far  drier  one  than  that  of  Europe,  and  the 
supply  of  water  all  along  the  slopes  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains exceedingly  scanty — a  fact  which  must  be  attributed 
to  the  absence  of  rain,  sandy  soil,  and  to  the  barren  sur- 
face of  the  mountains,  shedding  moisture  far  more  rapidly 
than  in  timbered  countries.  Besides  these  climatic  risks, 
the  Western  stock-raiser  has  to  chance  another  danger, 
which,  though  it  has  not  jet  made  its  presence  felt,  could 
«eith  one   cruel  blow  wreck  the  fortune  of  thousands; 


334  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

and  this  is  the  cattle  plague — pleuro-pneumonia,  and 
the  rest  of  these  terrible  scourges — up  to  now  unknown 
west  of  the  Missouri.  To  what  this  immunity  is  to  be 
ascribed — whether  to  the  dryness  of  the  climate,  the  con- 
stant equality  of  the  feed,  to  some  medicinal  quality  of 
either  herbage  or  water,  or  to  a  lucky  chance — is  un- 
known ;  as  is  also  how  long  the  happy  exemption  may 
last.  The  consequences  of  disease  once  gaining  a  foot- 
hold on  the  vast  expanse  of  the  Plains,  stretching  from 
the  frontier  of  Canada  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  and 
from  the  Sierra  Madre  to  the  great  Mississippi,  are 
perfectly  frightful  to  contemplate.  Hardly  one  of  the 
15,000,000  of  cattle,  which  on  a  moderate  estimate 
range  wholly  unrestrained  over  this  tract,  could  escape 
contagion.  It  would  be  one  terrible  leap  from  wealth 
to  bankruptcy.  As  no  stock,  save  the  bulls  for  breeding 
purposes,  is  imported  from  the  East,  or  from  countries 
where  pleuro-pneumonia  has  ever  been  prevalent,  it  is 
obvious  that  the  chief  danger  of  importing  contagion 
rests  with  the  introduction  of  breeding  stock.  This 
danger  is  of  late  impressing  itself  upon  stock-holders  all 
over  the  West.  Congress  has  been  appealed  to  with  the 
view  of  establishing  commissions  composed  of  veterinary 
surgeons  and  experienced  stockmen,  in  order,  first  of  all, 
to  exercise  proper  vigilance  on  the  Eastern  frontiers— a 
sanitary  line  very  easy  to  control,  as  all  bulls  are  brought 
West  by  one  or  the  other  of  three  great  lines,  and  the 
Missouri  is  a  natural  frontier  drawn  by  nature — and 
secondly,  should,  notwithstanding  all  precautions,  the 
disease  make  its  appearance,  to  empower  them  to  destroy 
immediately  all  animals  that  have,  or  possibly  could  have, 
eome  into    contact    with    the   diseased  stock.     Congress 


Camps  in  Cowboy  land,  335 

evinces,  however,  for  problems  of  this  kind,  not  only  very 
little  interest,  but  suffers  from  a  chronic  state  of  poverty 
when  matters  of  national  welfare  like  these  come  upon  the 
tapis.  That  inbred  happy-go-lucky  trusting  to  fortune, 
which  is  strongly  represented  in  the  individual's  character, 
is  also  represented  in  the  Parliament.  The  chances  are, 
too,  that  if  such  a  Board  of  Supervision  were  created,  it 
would,  like  the  Indian  question  and  other  questionably 
conducted  public  matters,  fall  immediately  into  the  hands 
of  a  ring — patting  wealth  into  the  pockets  of  a  few,  to  the 
utter  ruin  possibly  of  a  whole  community,  should  the 
Board's  active  services  become  necessary.  Very  little 
reliance  can,  therefore,  be  placed  on  Government  help. 
More  likely  does  it  seem  that  the  whole  body  of  Western 
stockmen  will  arrive  at  some  arrangement  among  them- 
selves ;  for,  like  making  laws  and  building  houses,  ready 
self-help  becomes  second  nature  among  a  frontier  popu- 
lation. 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  "Western  cattle 
are  whoUy  exempt  from  the  ills  of  their  flesh.  In  Texas 
there  is  a  peculiar  disease  known  as  Texas  fever,  and  very 
nearly  all  adult  cattle  of  an  improved  stamp  imported  into 
Texas  for  breeding  purposes,  take  it  and  dia  Texas- 
bred  stock,  however,  very  rarely  suffer  from  it,  but, 
strange  to  say,  they  appear  to  be  able  to  infect  other 
cattle  with  a  form  of  disease  hardly  ever  showing  in 
themselves,  so  that  at  certain  times  of  the  year,  when 
droves  of  Texas  "  beeves  "  are  driven  northwards,  other 
cattle  crossing  the  trail  are  smitten  with  the  Texas  fever, 
and  die  by  thousands.  The  report  of  the  Royal  Com- 
missioners speaks  of  it  as  a  very  mysterious  disease. 

Most  visitors  when  first  they  see  the  great  Plains  oJ 


33^  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

Western  Nortli  America  are  grievously  disappointed.  The 
Missouri  once  passed,  the  verdant  green,  the  most  pro- 
minent feature  of  our  own  pastoral  landscape,  vanishes 
totally,  and  the  traveller  on  the  great  Trans-Continental 
Railway  will  see  for  upwards  of  1000  miles  hardly  a 
tree;  and  his  eyes,  accustomed  to  our  home  grass-land, 
will  be  painfully  struck  by  the  arid,  waterless,  and  ver- 
dureless  aspect  of  the  country.  If  he  travels  across  this 
vast  district  late  in  summer  or  in  autumn,  it  will  seem 
totally  destitute  of  grass;  for  the  blades,  or  rather 
bunches,  of  buffalo  grass,  of  such  singularly  nourishing 
properties,  have  long  been  dried  up  and  cured  by  summer 
heat.  Instead  of  rotting  away  and  losing  every  atom  of 
strength,  as  European  grasses  do  if  they  are  not  cut  in 
time,  they  retain  all  their  most  valuable  qualities  ;  in  fact, 
it  is  generally  maintained  that  this  self-cured  hay,  as  we 
might  term  it,  is  more  nutritious  for  cattle  than  fresh 
grass,  which,  as  in  the  case  of  green  clover-feed  for  horses, 
fills,  but  does  not  nourish.  However  this  may  be,  it  is 
certain  that  all  the  various  kinds  of  cattle  imported  from 
the  east,  south,  and  west  flourish  on  it.  A  herd  of  5000 
head  will  feed  the  year  round  and  grow  fat  on  a  stretch  of 
arid-looking  table-land,  where  an  English  farmer,  if  he  saw 
it  in  autumn,  would  vow  there  was  not  sufficient  grazing 
for  his  children's  donkey.  There  are,  of  course,  different 
degrees  in  the  quality  of  grazing-land ;  some  are  very 
much  superior  to  others,  and  these  latter  are  generally  to 
be  found  in  the  neighbourhood  of  great  ranges  of  moun- 
tains. 

If  we  examine  the  natural  features  of  the  Great  Plains, 
we  find  that,  with  very  few  exceptions  no  part  of  them 
will  feed  nearly  as  many  cattle,  sheep,  or  horses  to  the 


Camps  in  Cowboy  land,  337 

square  mile  as  land  will  in  the  Eastern  States  or  in  Europe ; 
but  the  almost  limitless  area  counterbalances  this.  The 
grasses  of  the  Plains  are  not  kept  strictly  apart,  and  are 
called  somewhat  indiscriminately  gama,  buffalo,  or  bunch- 
grass.  One  kind  grows  about  six  inches  high,  the  other 
is  smaller.  Their  growth,  beginning  about  the  first  ol 
May,  continues  to  the  end  of  July,  when  the  dry  season 
commences  ;  they  then  dry  up,  and  are  cured  by  the  sun; 
and  as  the  frosts,  let  them  be  ever  so  hard,  do  not  seem  to 
penetrate  to  the  roots,  or  else  do  not  harm  them,  they 
retain  their  full  strength  for  the  whole  winter.  It  is  in- 
teresting to  note  that  the  virtues  of  this  self-cured  hay  were 
discovered  comparatively  quite  recently — viz.,  during  the 
building  of  the  Pacific  Railway,  not  twenty  years  ago,  when 
some  draught-oxen  were  lost  one  autumn,  and,  much  to 
the  surprise  of  the  owner,  were  found  the  following  spring 
quite  fat  and  healthy.  Nature  has  provided  in  many 
ways  for  her  children ;  for  not  only  can  stock  find  ready 
shelter  under  the  bluffs,  and  in  the  many  small  valleys 
and  glens  called  pockets  and  gulches,  and  under  the 
clusters  of  hardy  cedars  and  spreading  cottonwood-trees 
which  almost  serve  the  purpose  of  barns  and  stables,  but 
the  hurricanes  which  prevail  after  every  snowstorm  clear 
the  slopes  in  a  marvellously  short  time  from  the  snowy 
pall,  driving  it  together  in  banks,  and  filling  up  depres- 
sions in  the  ground.  Rarely  does  the  dry  and  flour-like 
snow  crust  over,  a  process  which  for  cattle  means  starvation 
if  warm  weather  does  not  soon  follow. 

The  snowstorms  in  Wyoming,  Idaho,  and  Montana  are 
usually  very  severe  indeed  ;  they  generally  last  three  days 
with  unabated  fury,  the  thermometer  going  down  to  56  or 
60  degrees  of  frost.     In   the    Western   vernacular  they 

z 


338  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

are  known  as  "blizzards/*  It  is  specially  the  so-called 
"  breaking-up "  storm  which  is  dreaded  by  ranchemen. 
It  is  the  last,  coming  about  March  or  the  first  half 
of  April ;  and  not  only  is  it  the  severest  of  all,  but  it  finds 
cattle  less  able  to  withstand  its  fury,  and  go  without  food 
for  three  or  four  days,  exposed  to  great  cold  and  Arctic 
winds. 

Losses  in  severe  winters  are  often  very  great.  Where 
sheep  are  raised,  as,  for  instance,  in  Colorado  and  some 
districts  in  Wyoming,  whole  flocks  of  four  or  five 
thousand  head  perish  in  one  night ;  and  one  case  is 
related,  when  the  breaking-up  storm  came  as  late  as 
May,  that  two  men  lost  in  four  hours  over  10,000.  Of 
cattle,  no  such  extreme  instances  have  to  be  chronicled, 
though  in  some  places  ranchemen  lost,  in  the  winters  of 
1871-72,  and  1880-81,  the  two  severest  ever  known,  half 
their  herds.  But  experience  has  taught  stockmen  many 
lessons,  particularly  in  the  choice  of  their  range,  respect- 
ing which  they  were  formerly  very  much  more  careless. 
The  presence  of  the  ravines  and  bluffs  so  peculiar  to  the 
Rocky  Mountain  formation,  is  as  essential  as  water  and 
grass ;  and  men  starting  now  prefer  to  go  100  or  200 
miles  farther  from  the  railway,  and  have  a  sheltered 
range,  than  risk  heavy  losses  and  be  nearer  the  point 
from  whence  they  "  ship  "  •  their  produce. 

Notwithstanding  that  cattle,  no  less  than  sheep,  are 
able  to  obtain  their  own  subsistence  all  the  year  round, 
the  avocation  of  stock-growing,  as  we  shall  see,  is  attended 
during  part  of  the  year  with  no  little  care  and  labour. 
During  the  summer,  autumn,  and  winter,  the  cattle  roam 

•  The  term  "  ship  "  is  commonly  used  in  America  for  "  send  bj 
raU.- 


Camps  in  Cowboy  land.  339 

at  will  over  the  Plains,  and  different  herds,  or  parts 
thereof,  mingle  together,  and  perhaps  wander  for  long 
distances  from  their  home  range.  Yery  frequently  single 
heads,  separated  most  likely  from  their  herd  in  a  stampede, 
are  found  two  or  three  hundred  miles  away.  To  collect 
these  stragglers  and  to  take  a  census,  no  less  than  to  pick 
out  the  beeves  for  market,  the  annual  "round-up'*  is 
held.  At  this  period,  falling  in  June  and  July,  the  whole 
country  is  searched,  and  the  cattle  appertaining  to  a 
district  are  driven  together  in  one  vast  herd,  from  whence 
the  different  ranchemen  separate  their  own  cattle,  easily 
recognizable  by  the  brand.  After  a  mutual  exchange  of 
strayed  ones,  each  owner  takes  his  herd  back  to  their 
home  range,  and  after  branding  the  calves,  turns  them 
out  loose,  not  to  see  them  again  till  "  round-up  "  next 
year. 

For  each  district,  embracing  many  hundred  square  miles, 
and  from  ten  to  twenty  ranches,  a  captain — generally 
one  of  the  old  settlers  well  acquainted  with  the  country — 
is  chosen.  Under  him  work  the  cowboys  from  the 
different  ranches,  numbering  often  seventy  or  more 
men,  and  200  or  more  horses,  for  each  cowboy  has  at 
least  three  spare  mounts  with  him  on  these  occasions* 
The  whole  country,  so  large  that  it  will  take  them  two  or 
three  months  to  work  it  over,  is  laid  out  in  daily  rides. 
If  there  is  a  large  stream  in  the  district,  the  watercourse 
is  followed;  the  country  for  twenty  or  thirty  miles  on 
both  sides  being  carefully  searched  by  the  mounted  cow- 
boys, who,  all  working  under  one  head,  develop  great 
aptitude  for  their  laborious  work.  They  are  in  the  saddle 
for  at  least  sixteen  hours  every  day,  and  most  of  the  time 
on  the  **  lope,"  or  canter,  chasing  and  collecting  the  semi* 

z  2 


340  Camps  in  the  Rockus. 

wild  cattle,  till  at  last,  often  long  after  dark,  they  bring 
in,  driving  before  them,  the  stock  found  that  day. 

If  the  range,  as  very  frequently  is  the  case,  be  a 
mountainous  one  (there  are  many  in  Wyoming  seven  and 
eight  thousand  feet  over  the  sea,  in  the  heart,  one  might 
say,  of  the  Rocky  Mountains),  the  search  for  cattle  is  far 
more  difficult  than  on  level  or  undulating  prairie-land. 
Among  the  rough  and  steep  chains  of  mountain  full 
of  "draws,"  "pockets/*  and  gulches,— generally  densely 
timbered  at  the  bottom — the  search  is  anything  but 
easy.  A  cow  or  small  bunch  of  cattle  overlooked  on  one 
round-up,  is,  however,  not  necessarily  lost ;  for  generally 
they  will  turn  up  on  that  or  some  neighbouring  range 
during  the  next  year's  round-up.  Wyoming  ranchemen 
have  told  me  that  often  they  accidentally  pitch  upon 
cattle  they  missed  four  or  five  years  before ;  while  on 
such  occasions  the  original  cow  will  make  her  appearance 
with  quite  a  little  family  of  uubranded  steers,  yearlings, 
and  calves.  These  "  foundliugs  "  are  often  appropriated  by 
others  than  the  rightful  owners,  the  branding  iron  covering 
in  this  instance  a  multitude  of  sins.  Considering  how 
broken  is  the  ground,  and  of  what  huge  dimensions  is 
each  range,  it  speaks  well  for  the  cowboy's  powers  that 
the  losses  from  straying  amount,  under  proper  care,  to  not 
more  than  one  or  two  per  cent,  per  annum.  The  total 
percentage  of  losses  incurred  from  stress  of  weather, 
droughts,  &c.,  varies  considerably.  More  than  half  of 
the  owners  or  managers  of  the  ranges  (about  100)  I 
visited,  declared  that  five  per  cent,  in  average  years  will 
amply  cover ;  others  maintained  seven,  and  a  few  even 
thought  ten  per  cent.  The  round-up  is  a  busy  time  for 
man  and  horse  on  frontier  ranches.     It  is  a  period  afibrd« 


Camps  in  Cowboy  land,  341 

ing  pleasant  change  to  the  cowboy,  who  the  rest  of  the 
year  is  buried  on  his  isolated  ranche,  often  months  without 
seeing  a  white  man,  and  years  frequently  pass  before  the 
glance  of  a  woman's  gown  makes  his  heart  flutter.  There 
is  a  wonderful  amount  of  animated  life,  light-hearted 
merriment,  and  vigorous  and  healthful  rivalry  about  one 
of  these  round-ups.  They  begin  with  a  substantial 
breakfast,  at  which  often  a  whole  steer,  divided  among 
the  different  messes,  is  used ;  the  rising  sun  sees  the 
tall,  lithe-figured,  and  bronze-faced  cowboj^s,  their  spurs 
jingling,  their  legs  encased  in  leather  *shaps,  the  heavy 
six-shooter  and  cartridge-belt  girt  round  the  waist,  leap 
into  the  saddle,  man  and  horse  equally  eager  for  the 
exciting  chase.  With  the  snake-like  lariat  swinging 
round  his  head  with  that  peculiar  hissing  sound  so 
terrifying  to  the  chased,  the  mettlesome  little  broncho, 
urged  by  a  shout  from  the  easy  "  lope,"  a  cradle-motioned 
sort  of  canter — a  pace  kept  up  by  cow  ponies  for  hours  at 
a  time — into  a  sharp  gallop,  the  whole  company,  like 
Llitzow's  "  wilde  verwegene  Jagd,"  disperses  over  the 
boundless  plains  or  the  mountain-girt  highland,  each  man 
making  straight  for  his  post,  only  to  return,  driving 
before  him  the  cattle  he  and  his  comrades  have  found, 
when  dark  renders  further  search  impossible.  These, 
if  it  is  an  open  country,  will  often  be  as  many  as 
200  to  the  man ;  if  -broken,  and  full  of  pockets  and 
draws,  or  densely  timbered  ravines,  perhaps  not  more 
than  ten  or  fifteen.  Cowboys  learn  to  track  animals  as 
Indians  do  game,  and  I  was  often  amused  to  watch  from 
^ome  elevated  spot  a  "  field  '*  of  cowboys  at  work.  Here 
you  will  see  a  couple  dismounted  and  leading  their  ponies, 
following   some   faint   tracks   on   the  hard  gravelly  soil 


342  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

which,  till  softer  ground  is  reached,  or  other  indisputable 
Btock  signs  discovered,  might  prove  those  of  elk  or  (unshod) 
Indian  ponies.  Generally,  water  betra5'8  cattle;  for  let 
them  be  ever  so  far  from  it,  or  carefully  screened  from 
discovery  in  dense  timber,  they  must  at  least  once  every 
twenty-four  hours  repair  to  the  next  creek  or  water-hole, 
when  their  tracks  are  easily  discernable.  Yonder  we 
perceive  two  of  the  daring  riders  pursuing  a  small 
"  bunch  '*  of  frisky  young  bulls  stampeding  down  a  steep 
slope,  tails  raised  high,  evidently  frightened  at  the 
unusual  sight  of  man,  and  the  pursuers  at  full  gallop 
tearing  down  the  hill  at  more  than  break-neck  pace, 
endeavouring  to  head  them  off;  man  and  horse  apparently 
oblivious  of  the  steepness  of  the  grade,  and  the  many 
treacherous  gopher-holes  that  dot  it.  They  are  all  won- 
derful riders,  and  on  these  occasions  they  strive  to  out-do 
each  other.  I  saw  one  spill  on  a  steep  hillside,  occa- 
sioned by  a  prairie-dog  hole,  into  which  the  horse  put 
one  of  its  forelegs ;  and  from  motives  of  curiosity  I 
measured  the  distance  the  rider  was  sent  spinning,  and 
found  that  between  the  gopher-hole  and  the  spot  where 
the  man's  shoulder  touched  ground  first  was  twenty  seven 
feet  less  three  inches.  The  man  was  only  slightly  stunned, 
and  amid  the  laughter  of  his  companions,  who  never  show 
any  mercy  on  such  occasions,  picked  himself  up,  and 
pulling  his  six-shooter,  forthwith  shot  the  disabled 
"  broncho." 

While  on  the  round-up,  the  cattle  found  each  day  are 
collected,  and  during  the  night  half  of  the  men  are  on 
guard  keeping  them  together.  Finally,  after  four  or  five 
weeks'  hard  work  the  whole  country  is  thoroughly 
searched,  and  the  herd,  now  numbering  many  thousands, 


Camps  in  Cowboy  land.  343 

is  ready  for  the  "cutting  out,"  performed  with  an  in- 
credible dash  by  the  cowboys.  Each  man  singling  out 
the  cows  with  the  brand  of  his  ranche  od  them — about 
seventy-five  per  cent,  of  which  are  followed  by  as  yet 
unbranded  calves — dashes  into  the  herd.  Their  wonder- 
fully sagacious  and  well- trained  ponies,  now  running  at 
full  speed,  now  turning  and  dodging  like  flashes,  anticipat- 
ing each  move  of  the  frightened  mother-cow  in  her  vain 
endeavour  to  find  security  where  the  herd  is  most  densely 
packed,  seem  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  sport  as  keenly 
as  the  light-hearted  rider,  who,  now  swinging  in  his  right 
hand  his  raw-hide  lariat  or  lasso,  prepares  for  the  throw. 
The  whirling  rope,  circling  in  black  rings  round  his  head, 
is  launched  forth ;  the  loop  drops  with  unerring  aim 
round  the  calf's  head ;  the  horse  stops  the  same  instant, 
throws  himself  back,  and  with  one  frantic  plunge  the 
calf  is  down,  to  be  dragged  the  next  minute  to  the  fireside, 
where  the  brand  is  applied.  Equally  easily  is  the  strong 
steer  thrown,  for  in  the  hands  of  the  trained  cowboy  the 
lariat  is  a  dangerous  tool.  The  loop  about  the  neck,  or 
over  one  or  both  hind  legs,  about  the  body,  or  over  one 
foreleg — at  the  will  of  the  masterful  hand — and  the  power- 
ful bull  lies  prostrate  and  helpless  on  the  ground  in  an 
incredibly  short  space  of  time.  When  all  the  calves  have 
been  branded,  ownerless  "  mavricks  "  brought  in,  and  any 
disputes  arising  respecting  the  ownership  of  these  waifs 
settled,  the  "  beeves  "  or  steers  for  the  market  are  selected 
by  each  rancheman  and  driven  off  to  the  nearest  Union 
Pacific  railway  (U.P.)  station,  where  the)*^  are  *'  shipped  " 
te  Chicago.  Ranchemen  in  a  small  way  frequently  club 
together,  and  make  up  one  party  to  drive  their  beeves 
thereto  en  mas^se. 


344  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

Monotonously  lonely  as  are  their  lives  for  the  rest  of 
the  year,  buried  in  their  isolated  ranche,  where  the 
advent  of  strangers  is  an  unlooked-for  and  rare  event, 
the  round-up  is  for  the  laughter-loving  though  hard- 
worked  cowboy  a  merry  period ;  for  his  perilous  vocation 
then  gives  him  the  best  of  chances  to  exhibit  his  daring 
feats  on  horseback,  to  indulge  in  attractive  rivalry  respect- 
ing the  fleetness  of  his  several  "  cayuses  '*  or  ponies,  the 
unerring  aim  of  his  lariat  and  revolver ;  and  finally,  is  not 
the  camp  fireside  nightly  the  scene  of  the  vast  story-telling 
powers  inherent  in  the  true  cowboy,  especially  if  he  be  of 
Texas  grit  and  grain  ? 

I  have  already  mentioned,  that  after  the  branding  the 
cattle  are  turned  out  on  the  range,  there  to  remain 
unguarded  and  unwatched  during  the  winter  months. 
The  same  is  done  with  the  horses,  or  at  least  with  the 
majority,  only  a  few  head  being  reserved  for  use,  stabled 
in  a  log  shanty  near  the  ranche,  where,  during  the 
severest  weather  they  are  fed  on  the  scanty  supply  of  hay 
collected  on  hay  bottoms  during  autumn,  and  at  other 
times  are  turned  out  to  graze  close  by. 

Cowboys  can  be  divided  into  two  classes — one  hailing 
from  the  Lone  Star  State,  Texas  ;  the  other,  recruited  either 
from  Eastern  States,  chiefly  Missouri,  or  from  the  Pacific 
slopes,  Oregon  contributing  no  mean  number  of  Webfoots, 
who  are  so  called  from  the  long  winter  rains  in  that 
colony.  The  Texans  are,  as  far  as  true  cowboyship 
goes,  unrivalled :  the  best  riders,  hardy,  and  born  to  the 
business,  the  only  drawback  being  their  wild  reputation. 
The  others  are  less  able  but  more  orderly  men.  The 
bad  name  of  Texans  arises  mostly  from  their  excitable 
tempers,    and    the   fact   that    they   are    often    "on   the 


Camps  in  Cowboylana,  345 

shoot/* — that  is,   somewhat    free    in    the   use    of  their 
revolvers. 

If  we  come  to  the  practical  issues  of  the  question,  the 
first  point  to  be  settled  by  the  intending  rancheman, 
when  once  he  has  chosen  his  range,  is  what  cattle  to 
purchase.  There  are  three  great  sources  from  which 
countless  herds  are  annually  drafted :  Texas,  Utah,  and 
Oregon.  The  first  mentioned  was,  as  we  have  heard, 
originally  the  only  stock  country.  The  two  last  have 
entered  the  competing  lists  very  recently,  thereby  giving 
us  another  proof  of  the  enormous  productive  capacities  of 
the  Great  West.  Thirty-five  years  ago,  when  Oregon 
was  a  perfect  wilderness,  and  Utah  not  yet  in  existence, 
there  was  not  a  head  of  stock  in  those  regions,  save 
the  few  which  each  settler  family  brought  with  them 
from  the  East;  half,  if  not  more,  of  the  number  they 
started  with  usually  succumbing  to  the  hardships  of 
over-driving  and  the  want  of  good  food  and  water  on  the 
inhospitable  and  endless  desert.  Cattle-driving,  as  a 
speculation,  was  then  and  for  a  long  time  to  come  unheard 
of,  so  none  brought  more  than  they  could  conveniently 
drive  ;  and  old  guides  have  stated  to  me  that  the  average 
number  was  decidedly  under  ten  to  each  family  of 
emigrants.  These  bovine  immigrants  in  the  meanwhile 
have  multiplied  in  the  green  valleys  of  Oregon  at  an 
enormous  rate ;  and  now  there  are  hundreds  of  thousands 
where,  thirty,  and  even  twenty  years  ago,  there  were  not 
hundreds.  Curious  to  say,  the  progeny  of  the  original 
ancestors  are  now  being  driven  in  vast  herds  back  East- 
wards, over  the  very  same  old  Mormon  road  which  fifteen 
or  twenty  years  ago  their  grandsires  had  travelled  on 
their  way  to  their  new  Western  homes. 


346  Camps  in  the  Rockies^ 

To  return  to  the  choice  of  stock.  The  general  pu^  He 
voice  declares  the  Oregon  and  Utah  I  reed  to  be  far  superior 
to  Texas  cattle ;  and  while  the  earlier  rancheraen  in 
Colorado,  Wyoming,  and  Montana  had  only  the  latter,  the 
Oregon  cows  driven  to  the  two  last-mentioned  Terri- 
tories in  1879  outnumbered  Texas  stock  at  least  three 
or  four  times.'  At  first  it  was  greatly  doubted  whether 
cattle  raised  on  the  Pacific  slopes,  and  especially  in  the 
damp,  moderately  warm  climate  of  Oregon,  could  possibly 
stand  a  Wyoming  or  Montana  winter  with  its  terribly 
severe  snowstorms.  Experience,  however,  has  established 
not  only  that  Oregon  stock  can  withstand  great  climatic 
hardships,  but  also  that  they  flourish  on  Wyoming  soil. 
As  both  Utah  and  Oregon  cattle  fetch  comparatively  much 
higher  prices  in  Chicago  and  other  great  markets,  those 
breeds  are  now  the  prime  favourites ;  and,  as  a  natural 
consequence  of  the  vastly  increased  demands,  cows  in 
Oregon  have  risen  quite  seventy-five  per  cent,  in  value 
within  the  last  four  or  five  years. 

The  choice  of  your  stock  decided,  there  are  three 
different  ways  of  getting  it.  You  can  first  of  all  buy  it  on 
"  the  range,"  and  this  is  the  quickest,  and,  if  you  exercise 
due  caution,  fairly  sure,  but  withal  the  most  expensive 
way.  The  cattle  are  bought  so  many  head,  '*  more  or 
less ;"  but  as  taking  the  census  and  the  control  over  vast 
herds  belonging  to  a  number  of  different  owners,  roaming 
at  large  over  large  tracts  of  country,  is  naturally  not  easy, 
and  only  possible  at  the  round-up,  this  mode  leaves  a 
good  many  openings  for  sharp-witted  "  cussedness,"  to 
which   the  newly  arrived  ''tenderfoot"  very  frequently 

"f  Twelve  years  ago  these  Territories  imported  about  800,000  head 
of  Texas  cattle  annually  ;  while  250,000  is  the  number  now . 


Camps  in  Cowboyland,  347 

falls  victim.  The  second  way,  and  for  newly  arrived 
settlers  by  far  that  most  to  be  preferred,  is  to  make  con- 
tracts with  any  of  the  large  and  responsible  drovers  for 
a  number  of  cattle  of  a  certain  breed  and  age,  about 
seventy-five  per  cent,  of  the  cows  to  have  calves,  the 
stock  to  be  delivered  at  a  specified  time  at  your  ranche, 
you  stipulating  a  heavy  forfeit  (often  as  large  as  3000/.  or 
4000/.)  in  case  of  non-fulfilment  of  contract,  and  having 
the  option  of  rejecting  animals  not  perfectly  healthy 
or  according  to  agreement.  Generally  a  year,  however, 
elapses  ere  you  receive  your  herd;  for,  say  you  sign 
contracts  in  Wyoming  in  autumn,  the  cattle  will  be  bought 
in  Oregon  by  the  driver  in  early  spring,  and  the  whole 
summer  will  pass  ere  the  herd  reaches  Wyoming.  The 
third,  and  originally  the  only  way  of  procuring  your 
stock,  is  to  go  yourself  to  Texas  or  Oregon,  buy  your 
cattle  there  from  different  owners,  and  start  with  them  for 
your  distant  home  as  soon  as  the  warm  May  sun  has 
turned  the  vast  Plains  an  emerald  green.  The  process  of 
driving  cattle  is  called  "  riding  on  trail,**  one  of  the  most 
laborious  and  dreary  undertakings  imaginable,  of  which 
we  shall  have  to  speak  a  little  farther  on.  This,  though 
the  cheapest,  is  for  "  tenderfeet  *'  the  most  risky  mode 
of  purchasing  stock. 

There  are  to-day  two  different  ways  of  conducting  the 
stock  business  out  West.  The  one  is  to  buy  young  steers, 
keep  them  two  years  on  your  range,  and  sell  them  as 
four-year-olds  to  market.  Per  head  the  increase  in  value 
varies  between  $10  and  $15  (2/.  to  3/.);  thus  enabling  the 
rancheman  very  nearly  to  dc  uble  his  capital  in  that  short 
space  of  time,  provided  his  losses  do  not  exceed  five  pef 
cent. 


34^  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

The  other  manner  is  to  rake  stock,  buying  Texas, 
Oregon,  or  Utah  cows,  and  the  necessary  number  of 
Eastern,  bulls  of  a  good  breed.  This,  if  from  the  first 
you  make  up  your  mind  not  to  sell  a  single  animal  for  the 
first  three  years,  is  in  the  end  far  more  profitable  than  th« 
mere  "  feeding-up  "  of  stock.  Formerly  fewer  men  went 
into  it,  on  account  of  the  larger  capital  required  to  keep 
the  concern  going  for  the  first  three  years  with  no 
incoming  funds;  but  the  last  few  years  have  brought, 
as  the  large  profits  of  the  business  became  better  known  in 
the  East,  larger  capital,  and  no  ^  it  is  the  favourite  with 
men,  tempted  to  go  West,  by  the  very  fair  chance  of 
making  a  fortune  in  six  or  eight  years. 

In  an  account  added  in  the  Appendix,  I  furnish 
detailed  estimates,  based  upon  the  most  trustworthy 
authorities,  examined  by  me  personally,  of  the  increase 
of  cattle  in  a  certain  number  of  years,  and  the  profits 
accruing  to  the  stockman.  I  placed  the  amount  invested 
at  the  outset  at  10,000/.,  and  proved  that  the  profits  at 
the  end  of  three  years  amounted  to  8800^.  This,  with 
fair  luck,  and  losses  taken  at  five  per  cent,  each  year 
consecutively.  Of  course  the  rate  of  increase  grows  con- 
siderably larger  in  subsequent  years,  as  seventy-five  per 
cent,  of  all  cows  have  calves  annually ;  at  least  this  is  the 
generally  accepted  percentage  in  Wyoming  and  Montana, 
some  few  putting  it  as  high  as  eighty,  others  seventy  per 
cent. 

The  whole  subject  of  stock-raising  on  the  Western 
Plains  is  attracting  very  general  and  deserved  attention 
in  the  Eastern  cities,  and  numbers  of  young  men  of  good 
family  start,  or  are  started  annually  by  their  friends,  the 
capital  invested  varying  frem   2000/.   to  20,000/.      But 


Camps  in  Cowboy  land,  349 

even  with  a  smaller  start  money  can  be  made ;  and  not  a 
few  of  the  independent  stockmen  I  met,  sprung  from  the 
lowest  social  rank,  were  rapidly  trebling  their  |3000  or 
$4000.  Others,  recruited  from  the  middle  classes  of 
the  States,  had  two  or  three  years  ago  been  railway 
conductors,  hotel-keepers.  Western  merchants,  petty  civil 
servants,  and,  quite  a  number,  trappers  and  Indian  scouts. 

A  considerable  number  of  the  former  (trappers)  had 
served  as  guides  to  rich  English  sportsmen,  on  their 
shooting  tours  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  had  been 
started  by  them  with  a  few  thousand  dollars.  I  have 
heard  of  some  half-dozen  gentlemen  in  England  who 
are  reported  to  draw  fifteen  and  twenty  per  cent,  interest 
from  the  capital  they  advanced  to  their  former  camp- 
fireside  companions.* 

In  the  United  States,  where  '^  tall  "  talk  is  so  common, 
the  numerous  accounts  that  have  been  published  of  late 
of  Western  stock-raising  all  exhibit  this  national  failing. 
Of  the  dozens  I  have  had  occasion  to  peruse,  all  were  more 
or  less  overcoloured.  The  profits,  according  to  them, 
were  more  like  those  of  the  old-day  Texas  cattle- trade  than 
the  actual  truth,  namely,  from  thirty  to  thirty-five  per 
cent,  per  annum  on  the  average  of  three  or  four  years,  and 
about  forty  per  cent,  on  the  average  of  seven  years.  They 
would  be  considerably  greater  (as  the  stock  after  the 
fourth  and  fifth  year  increases  at  a  startling  rate)  were  it 
not  necessary  to  take  into  account  the  chance  of  one  very 
bad  winter  out  of  seven,  when  the  losses  much  exceed  the 
five  per  cent. 

Nothing  will  give  a  better  picture  of  a  stockman's 
fortune  in  those  wild  regions  than  a  sketch  from  lifei 
Let  us  select  Mr.  Iliff,  one  of  the  Viest  known  cattlemen 


350  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

of  Colorado  and  Wyoming,  recently  deceased.  Mr.  Ilifl 
was  one  of  the  many  thousands  who,  in  the  great  Pike 
Peak's  Gold  excitement  in  1859,  crossed  with  frenzied 
energy  the  Great  American  Desert — as  the  vast  tract  of 
desert-like  land  intervening  between  the  Mississippi  and 
Colorado  was  then  still  called.  Unlike  the  majority  of 
his  brethren — who  after  a  short  spell  of  fruitless  work 
awoke  to  the  stern  reality  that  gold  could  not  be  picked 
up  in  panfuls,  and  either  returned  home,  or  pushed  still 
farther  West  towards  California,  founding  on  their  way  that 
fabulously  rich  silver  state  Nevada — Iliff  remained  on  the 
spot,  threw  shovel,  pan,  and  rocker  aside,  and  settled  down 
to  cultivate  a  small  patch  of  ground  near  Denver,  then 
a  city  of  less  than  100  miserable  shanties,  and  peopled 
with  the  roughest  of  the  rough ;  for  the  numerous 
''hanging  bees"  whiob  cleared  off  the  most  desperate 
element  in  subsequent  years  had  then  not  yet  been 
introduced.  Iliff  was  not  over  fond  of  those  dark  sides 
of  frontier  life,  and  being  himself  "not  on  the  shoot," 
decided  to  move  North.  "  Moving  "  was,  and  is,  a  very 
simple  affair  in  the  West.  Iliff,  perfectly  destitute  when 
he  came  to  Denver  from  the  mines,  had  managed  to  save 
sufficient  in  the  one  season  of  his  residence  in  that  town, 
where  the  "  garden  truck  " — vegetables — raised  by  him 
found  a  very  ready  market,  to  buy  a  pony  and  some  few 
provisions,  and  a  rifle.  Loading  them  on  his  horse,  he 
turned  his  back  on  lively  Denver  and  his  primitive 
'*  dug-out,"  his  home  for  the  last  six  months.  He  reached 
the  Northern  Californian  (Mormon)  emigrant  road, 
about  160  miles  North  of  his  late  home  in  autumn, 
and  at  once  set  to  work  to  build  himself  a  log 
Bhanty,  which  he  completed  before  the  worst  weather  of 


Camps  in  Cowboy  land.  351 

iv^inter  could  surprise  him.  He  had,  so  he  stated  in  later 
years,  only  a  few  dollars  in  his  pocket,  a  small  cask  of 
whiskey,  and  a  little  store  of  tobacco.  "With  these  he 
hoped  to  trade  with  the  Mormons,  and  other  emigrants 
passing  over  that  weary  road  in  the  season,  who  were  often 
as  many  as  100  per  diem,  while  in  winter  he  was  months 
without  seeing  a  civilized  being — the  pony  express,  and 
later  the  stage,  then  passing  on  the  *' Southern  road," 
much  to  the  south  of  his  location. 

With  the  emigrants,  generally  as  poor  as  himself,  he 
bartered  his  whiskey,  tobacco,  and  other  necessaries  of  life, 
which  he  gradually  managed  to  "lay  in,"  taking  in 
exchange  cattle,  of  which  all  "Western-bound  emigrants 
took  with  them  as  large  a  number  as  their  means  would 
allow,  for  not  only  did  they  furnish  them  with  milk  in 
the  totally  uninhabited  regions  through  which  they 
journeyed  for  five  and  six  weary  months,  but  they  were 
at  the  same  time  the  most  valuable  stock-in-trade  of  the 
new  settlers  in  their  distant  homes.  Many  of  the  Eastern 
raised  cattle,  however,  accustomed  to  other  feed  and  plenty 
of  water,  succumbed  to  the  bovine  hardships  of  the  trip  ; 
and  80  Iliff  drove  many  a  good  bargain,  giving  for  a 
broken-down  cow  or  a  tottering  steer — mere  walking 
raw-boned  ghosts  of  their  former  selves — a  pound  or  so  of 
tobacco  or  a  few  glasses  of  precious  whiskey,  which  seemed 
the  very  elixir  of  life  to  the  parched  emigrants  by  the 
time  they  reached  Iliff's  store,  already  two  or  three 
months  on  the  road.  Some  miles  from  his  shanty  he  had 
discovered,  amid  some  sheltering  but  very  broken  hill 
country,  a  very  oasis  in  the  alkaline  desert,  a  consider- 
able tract  of  good  hay-land,  with  an  ever-flowing  creek 
traversing  it. 


352  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

To  this  place  he  drove  his  purchases,  and  the  nutritious 
bunch  grass  and  total  rest,  so  strange  to  their  weary  limbs 
of  late,  soon  fattened  them  up  to  their  pristine  condition. 
Iliff  showed  in  this  predilection  for  cattle  a  singular  fore- 
sight ;  for,  as  the  end  proved,  the  dollars  so  invested  accu- 
mulated at  a  rate  before  which  even  the  twenty  and  thirty 
per  cent,  per  annum  which  Western  banks  in  those  days 
gave  for  ready  cash  deposits  were  as  nothing ;  and,  more- 
over, it  was  storing  up  money  in  perhaps  the  only  safe 
way.  The  Plains  from  the  Rocky  Mountains  to  the 
Eastern  portions  of  Nebraska  and  the  Missouri  were,  as 
everybody  will  remember,  overrun  by  hostile  Indians,  and 
the  scene  of  countless  massacres. 

Iliff's  shanty  was  twice  burnt  over  his  head  by  the 
red  men,  he  escaping  each  time  with  nought  but  his  life. 
Cattle  in  those  days  had,  in  the  eyes  of  the  wandering 
Indians,  unlike  horses  and  everything  else  white  men 
possessed,  no  value ;  hence  he  found  on  his  return  to  his 
desolated  home  that  his  bovine  riches,  grazing  quietly  in 
the  hills  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  from  the  road,  had  not 
been  tampered  with  by  the  white  man's  enemy,  who,  still 
happy  possessors  of  matchless  hunting-grounds,  held  beef 
in  utter  contempt  as  '*  squaw's  game."  For  ten  years  Iliff, 
like  so  many  other  venturesome  spirits,  braved  the  perils 
of  the  Plains;  and,  in  1869,  the  first  locomotive  that  passed 
over  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad,  in  close  proximity  to  his 
ranche,  found  him  a  rich  man.  Not  only  had  he  found  a 
splendid  market  for  his  beef  in  the  numberless  railroad 
camps  while  the  road  was  building,  but,  while  formerly  he 
had  no  human  habitation  nearer  than  seventy  miles, 
Cheyenne,  a  city  of  10,000  inhabitants,  had  sprung  up,  so 
to  say,  over-night  not  ten  miles  from  his  home. 


Camps  in  Cowboy  land.  353 

His  range,  on  the  frontier  of  Wyoming  and  Colorado, 
extended  already,  in  1872,  from  Julesburgh  to  Greeley,  a 
distance  of  more  than  150  miles,  and  about  100  miles  broad, 
on  which  were  grazing  for  years  40,000  head  of  cattle, 
representing  160,000/.,  all  belonging  to  the  man  who  scarce 
fifteen  years  before  had  driven  the  first  stake  of  his  shanty. 

What  is  most  instructive  about  such  a  career  is,  that 
Iliff  had  in  no  way  to  thank  luck  for  his  success.  His 
losses  were  often  very  great ;  thus  in  the  exceptionally 
severe  and  long  winter  of  1871-2,  cattle  to  the  value  of 
25,000/.  starved,  and  above  21,000/.  were  spent  by  him  in 
spring  to  find  strayed  animals,  some  of  which,  in  the  agony 
of  a  slow  death  by  hunger,  had  strayed  400  miles  in 
search  of  food,  part  of  his  herds  being  finally  recovered 
in  two  difierent  States  and  four  different  Territories. 

While  thousands  of  his  former  mining  comrades  had 
returned  to  their  Eastern  homes  half-starved  desperadoes, 
and  hundreds  had  found  a  lonely  grave  in  the  mountains  of 
Colorado,  and  a  few — a  very  few,  alas ! — had  been  favoured 
by  luck  and  had  found  great  riches,  to  be  squandered 
again  in  the  most  incredibly  reckless  manner,  he  had 
pursued  his  course  with  singular  perseverance,  and  besides 
leaving  his  heirs  millionaires,  had  enjoyed  for  the  last 
seven  years  of  his  life,  from  his  cattle,  quite  apart  from 
other  speculations,  an  income  of  upwards  of  25,000/.  per 
annum. 

The  first  cattle  ranche  in  Colorado  was  that  of  Colonel 
J.  D.  Henderson,  who,  starting  from  Kansas  in  the  spring 
of  1859,  bound  for  the  gold-mines  at  Pike's  Peak,  was 
one  of  the  first  to  realize  that  raising  cattle  was  more 
profitable  than  gulch  gold-mining.  He  had  taken  out 
with  him  on  a  waggon  a  stock  of  groceries  and  a  few 

A  a 


354  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

barrels  of  whiskey.  His  first  trade  with  a  band  of  Ute 
Indians  secured  him,  for  two  barrels  of  the  precious  liquor, 
a  large  island  in  the  Platte  River,  below  Denver.  A  stout 
and  roomy  log  hut  and  cattle  corrals  were  built  with  the 
aid  of  the  Indian  squaws,  who,  while  their  noble  lords 
were  lying  around,  made  helplessly  drunk  by  their  "trade," 
helped  to  drag  the  logs  from  the  nearest  forest ;  and  very 
soon  Henderson  Island  became  a  favourite  rendezvous  and 
stopping-place  for  the  Mountain-bound  gold-diggers  and 
emigrants.  In  1861  Henderson  had  already  2000  head 
of  cattle,  and  trade  was  brisk.  Whiskey,  sold  in  drinks 
at  2s.  each,  returning  5/.  per  gallon ;  while  a  cow  could 
often  be  bought  for  a  fifth  of  that  sum. 

The  wonderfully  rapid  growth  of  ranching  in  Colorado 
•^which  only  became  a  State  five  years  ago — is  proved  by 
the  fact  that  in  1871  only  145,916  head  of  cattle  were 
assessed  for  taxation,  while  six  years  later,  483,2^8  were 
returned,  the  present  number  being  estimated  between 
900,000  and  950,000.*  In  1877,  80.000,  in  1878,  88,000 
beeves  were  "shipped,"  mostly  to  Chicago;  while  the 
home  demand  of  Colorado  in  the  latter  year  accounted 
for  quite  20,000.  Thus  in  one  year  the  sale  of  108,000 
beef  steers  realized  for  the  new  state  (at  5/.  per  head) 
considerably  over  half  a  million  sterling. 

*'  Riding  on  trail,"  to  which  I  have  already  referred,  is 
an  undertaking  requiring  on  the  part  of  the  leader  great  ex- 
perience, the  intuitive  natural  talent  of  the  trapper  skilled 
in  **  Plains  craft,*'  and  the  astute  genius  of  a  commander 

•  In  sheep  the  increase  has  been  even  more  rapid,  for  while  ten 
years  ago  Colorado  bad  less  than  20,000,  it  had  in  1880  2,000,000. 
These  latter  figures  I  obtain  from  Mr.  Fosset's  work  on  Colorado^ 
published  last  year. 


Camps  in  Cowboy  land.  355 

— adroit,  firm,  determined,  of  quick  eye,  and  versed  in  the 
mysteries  of  Plainscraft.  From  the  chief  cattle  centres  in 
Texas  it  takes  from  four  to  six  months,  from  Oregon  not 
much  less,  of  constant  travel  to  reach  North- Western 
Wyoming.  Great  mountain  ranges  have  to  be  crossed ; 
v^ast  stretches  of  dreary,  absolutely  barren  Plains  to  be 
covered;  rivers  full  of  dangerous  quicksands,  in  which 
whole  herdshave  been  known  to  perish,  and  streams  subject 
to  the  most  terrifically  sudden  freshets,  to  be  forded ;  long 
expanses  of  barren,  ashy-hued,  alkaline  desert-land,  where 
for  forty  or  fifty  miles  not  a  drop  of  precious  water  is  to 
be  found,  to  be  traversed ;  and  all  this,  with  two,  three,  or 
four  thousand  semi- wild  shaggy  cattle,  straight  from  their 
pathless  home,  unaccustomed  to  the  sight  of  human  beings, 
and  only  too  easily  startled  into  a  frenzied  stampede, 
resulting  in  general  disaster.  All  this,  through  countries 
where  Indians,  if  not  actually  hostile,  are — or  rather  were 
— always  ready  for  a  haul,  and  where  Nature  herself,  in 
the  shape  of  violent  thunderstorms  and  early  snowstorms, 
seems  to  delight  in  wrecking  the  fortunes  of  the  adven- 
turous frontiersman. 

Let  us  examine  the  "outfit*'  of  a  party  riding  on 
trail,  say  with  a  herd  of  4000  cattle.  It  consists  of 
the  captain  and  six  or  eight  cowboys,  a  large  waggon 
with  tarpaulin  cover  to  hold  provisions  and  bedding,  a 
boy  cook,  and  a  bunch  of  cow-ponies,  numbering  from 
forty  to  sixty  head,  which,  if  the  start  is  made  from 
Texas,  can  be  bought  there  for  about  2/.  10s.,  and  sold  at 
their  destination  for  quite  double  their  original  cost.  As 
the  ponies  will  be  wanted  at  the  ranche,  they  are  usually 
not  sold  at  the  termination  of  the  journey.  Not  infre- 
quently one  or  two  hundred  are  driven  along  with  the 

Aa  2 


356  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

cattle  as  a  speculation,  the  cowboys  making  a  purse 
<;overing  the  purchase  and  the  extra  hire  of  a  man  to 
attend  them. 

Until  very  recently,  the  journey  was  generally  made 
in  company  with  two  or  three  similar  outfits ;  for  the 
countries  through  which  runs  the  well-known  old  Texas 
trail  (now  of  classic  name,  about  which  there  clings  a 
terribly  sanguinary  history  of  bloodshed  and  war)  was 
infested  with  hostile  Indians,  and  the  equally  dangerous 
and  even  more  cruel  Mexican  border  ruffians.  Larger 
numbers  afforded  greater  security.  Every  man  was  a 
walking  aiaenal.  Over  his  saddle-bow  was  slung,  in 
trapper  fashion,  a  Winchester  repeater  ;  the  two  long, 
ever-present  Colts  at  his  right  and  left  hip,  his  long 
raw-hide  lariat  looped  to  his  California- rigged  saddle,  a 
very  clumsy-looking  and  heavy  contrivance,  necessarily  so, 
however,  for  the  strain  of  a  powerful  bull  making  frantic 
efibrts  to  loosen  himself  from  the  fatal  loop  must  be  with- 
stood, and  hence  every  particle  of  the  saddle  must  be  of 
the  strongest. 

Hardly  credible  stories  are  told  of  the  fate  of  many 
an  "  outfit ''  that  passed  over  the  Texas  trail  eight  or 
ten  years  ago.  One  quite  authentic  one  may  suffice  : 
The  party  in  question,  consisting  of  forty-odd  men  and 
nearly  13,000  head  of  cattle,  starting  some  160  miles 
80i#h-we8t  of  San  Antonio,  reached  North  Colorado 
after  an  exceptionally  disastrous  journey,  so  decimated 
by  stampedes,  losses  in  a  fatal  quicksand,  Indian  and 
Mexican  surprises,  and  fatal  shooting  affrays  among 
themselves,  that  only  nine  men  and  little  over  5000 
head  were  left.  Now-a-days  some  of  these  risks  have 
ceased  to  exist,  and  an  "  outfit  on  trail "  will  rarely  consist 


Cavips  in  Cowboy Imid.  357 

of  more  than  4000  head.  The  revolver,  snowstorms,  and 
stampedes  are,  however,  still  serious  stumbling-blocks — ■ 
especially  the  former,  if  part  of  the  crew  are  recruited  from 
the  detested  "greasers/*  viz.,  half-breeds,  or  a  mixture  of 
the  native  Indian  and  imported  Spaniard.  Between  these 
and  the  "  whites,"  as  Americans  of  pure  blood  insist 
upon  being  called,  an  instinctive  hatred  has  always 
existed,  and  will  for  ever  exist  ;  for,  apart  from  race 
antipathy,  the  curious  marital  relations  of  the  two  people, 
both  impulsively  hyt-headed  and  of  a  jealous  disposition, 
must  always  prove  a  source  of  trouble^ 

Thunderstorms,  though  by  no  means  frequent  are  a 
source  of  danger  in  summer,  are  very  terrifying  to  wild 
cattle.  On  the  approach  of  one  of  these  violent  outbursts 
the  whole  force  is  ordered  on  duty.  The  spare  horses — of 
which  each  man  has  always  three,  and  often  as  many  as 
eight  or  ten — are  carefully  fed  and  tethered,  and  the  herd 
is  •*  rounded  up,*'  that  is,  collected  in  as  small  a  space  as 
possible,  while  the  whole  force  continues  to  ride  round  the 
densely- massed  herd.  Like  horses,  cattle  derive  courage 
from  the  close  proximity  of  man.  The  thunder  peals,  and 
the  vivid  lightning  flashes  with  amazing  brilliancy,  as 
with  lowered  head  the  herd  eagerly  watches  the  slow  steady 
pace  of  the  cow  ponies,  and  no  doubt  derives  from  it  a 
comforting  sense  of  protection.  Sometimes,  however,  a 
wild  steer  will  be  unable  to  control  his  terror,  and  will 
make  a  dash  th^^ugh  a  convenient  opening.  The  crisis 
is  at  hand,  for  the  example  wiU  surely  be  followed, 
and  in  two  minutes  the  whole  herd  of  4000  head  will 
have  broken  through  the  line  of  horsemen  and  be  away, 
one  surging,  bellowing  mass  of  terrified  beasts.  As  an 
American  writer  on  the  origin  of  these  panics  very  cor- 


358  Camps  m  the  Rockies. 

rectly  remarks,  stampedes  may  arise  from  any  cause.  Some* 
times  an  inexperienced  cowboy  may  startle  the  herd  by  an 
unusual  shout.  Sometimes  the  war-whoop  of  Indians  may 
alarm  it.  Sometimes  a  stampede  may  result  from  some 
uncommon  sight,  which,  frightening  the  leaders,  will  take 
off  the  whole  herd.  Fancy  a  pitch-dark  night,  a  pouring 
torrent  of  rain,  the  ground  not  only  entirely  strange  to 
the  men,  but  very  broken  and  full  of  dangerously  steep 
watercourses  and  hollows,  and  you  will  have  a  picture  of 
cowboy  duty.  Coute  qtd  coute,  they  must  head  off  the 
leaders.  Once  fairly  off,  they  will  stampede  twenty, 
thirty,  and  even  forty  miles  at  a  stretch,  and  many  bunches 
will  stray  from  the  main  herd.  Not  alone  the  reckless 
rider,  rushing  headlong  at  breakneck  pace  over  dangerous 
ground  in  dense  darkness,  but  also  the  horses — small 
insignificant  beasts,  but  matchless  for  hardy  endurance 
and  willingness — are  perfectly  aware  how  much  depends 
upon  their  showing  speed  on  that  night,  if  it  kills  them. 
Unused  until  the  last  moment  remain  the  heavy  cowhide 
*' quirt"  or  whip  and  the  powerful  spurs,  with  jingling 
rowels  the  size  of  five-shilling  pieces.  Urged  on  by  a 
shout,  the  boys  speed  alongside  the  terrified  steers  until  they 
manage  to  reach  the  leaders,  and  finally  swinging  round, 
and  fearless  of  horns,  they  press  back  the  bellowing  brutes 
until  they  turn  them.  All  the  men  pursuing  the  same 
manoeuvre,  the  headlong  rush  is  at  last  checked,  and  the 
leaders,  panting  and  lashing  their  8id§9  with  their  tails, 
are  brought  to  a  stand,  and  the  whole  herd  is  again 
rounded  up.  The  run  has  taken  them  far  out  of  their 
road — led  them,  may  be,  into  close  proximity  of  hostile 
Indians,  or  crafty  "  greaser  *'  marauders ;  and  when  finally 
dawn  breaks,  new  dangers  may  await  the  small  contingent, 


Camps  in  Cowboy  land.  359 

who,  as  is  often  the  case,  do  not  leave  their  saddles,  save 
to  change  horses,  for  thirty-six  hours  at  a  stretch.  I  once 
witnessed  a  stampede  under  similar  circumstances,  and  a 
more  strangely  exciting  scene  I  have  never  seen.  That 
comparatively  few  fatal  accidents  occur  must  solely  be 
ascribed  to  the  matchless  riding  of  l-he  men,  and  the  won- 
derful sagacity  and  unsurpassable  sure-footedness  of  the 
trained  cow-pony.  All  night  long,  through  rain  or  fiercely 
driving  snow,  the  watch  continues,  and  when  morning 
comes  a  census  is  taken.  Then  only  the  men  find  how 
many  head  have  strayed,  and  some  of  them  are  at  once 
despatched  on  fresh  horses  to  find  the  lost  ones.  Single 
animals  on  such  occasions  have  been  known  to  stray 
100  miles,  and,  to  find  them,  vast  tracts  of  country 
have  to  be  searched.  Generally,  all  are  found ;  but  now 
and  again  small  bunches  disappear,  to  turn  up  on  an 
entirely  difierent  range  as  "  mavricks,''  Le.  the  name  given 
to  all  unbranded  animals,  which  are  the  prizes  of  the 
owner  of  the  range,  or  of  the  herd  with  which  they  have 
got  mixed  up. 

Speaking  of  brands,  there  are  two,  the  road  and  the 
permanent  brand.  The  first  is  not  always  used,  and  con- 
sists in  a  superficial  branding  of  a  certain  mark,  owned 
and  registered  by  the  person  driving  the  cattle.  The 
permanent  brand  is  applied  in  the  usual  manner  with  hot 
irons,  that  makes  it  impossible  to  be  obliterated.  Two  or 
three  letters,  or  some  sign,  are  chosen  for  the  brand, 
generally  placed  on  the  left  hip  in  six-inch  letters.  Once 
registered,  the  mark  belongs  to  the  rancheman,  who,  if  he 
has  been  long  in  the  business,  owns  often  four  or  five 
difierent  brands,  having  brought  up  herds  on  ranges 
which,  of  course,  were  already  provided  with  one.     The 


360  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

term  "mavrick"  \i  one  long  in  use,  and  is  said  to  be 
derived  from  the  name  of  one  of  the  first  large  cattle- 
drivers,  who,  while  on  trail,  was  surprised  on  a  mountain 
pass,  10,000  feet  over  the  sea,  by  a  heavy  snowstorm,  and 
lost  his  entire  herd,  consisting  of  many  thousand  head,  by 
a  stampede  exceptionally  disastrous,  for  he  recovered  only 
a  small  portion  months  afterwards.  Another  story  has  it 
that  the  term  comes  from  "  Mauvric,"  an  old  Frenchman 
in  Texas,  who  is  said  to  have  added  largely  to  his  worldly 
stores  by  a  systematic  abstraction  of  these  waifs  and 
strays.  But  this  last  version  does  not  receive  much 
credence,  as  cattle- thieves,  like  road-agents,  horse-rogues, 
and  claim-jumpers  generally,  get  ''rubbed  out'*  in  an 
uncomfortably  speedy  manner,  long  before  the  ordinary  run 
of  mortals  have  time  to  make  a  lasting  name  for  themselves. 

The  long,  fatiguing  journey  of  many  months,  scanty 
feed  on  the  trail,  and  overwork,  reduce  the  poor  horses, 
half  broken  at  best,  to  a  terrible  state  of  emaciation. 
At  such  times  you  will  see  them  stand  about  with  drooping 
head,  mere  gaunt  spectres  of  their  selves,  and  possessing 
hardly  sufiicient  strength  to  feed ;  and  worst  of  all,  the 
winter  with  its  heavy  three-days  snowstorms  and  fierce 
cold  is  at  hand,  and  no  shelter  except  the  sparsely- timbered 
ravines  of  the  next  mountain  range  to  protect  them.  It  is 
really  wonderful  that  these  animals,  whose  lot  is  far  worse 
than  that  of  the  carefully  driven  cattle — equally  accustomed 
to  a  warm  climate  as  they  are — manage  to  survive  a  winter 
in  these  latitudes ;  and  yet,  if  you  happen  to  see  them 
again  in  June,  you  would  be  more  than  astonished  at  their 
first-class  condition.  Plump  and  full  of  spirits,  they  seem 
different  animals. 

The  herd  and  the  dust-begrimed  weary  men,  after  their 


Camps  in  Cowboy  land,  361 

/ong  summer's  journey,  at  last  arrive  at  their  future  home. 
Work  of  a  diflferent  kind  begins  then :  the  ranche,  the 
house,  and  the  '*  corral  "  have  to  be  built ;  a  stock  of  hay 
for  the  horses,  if  such  is  procurable,  laid  in ;  the  cattle 
branded,  and  then  carefully  distributed  over  the  range — 
here  1000  head  ;  there,  twenty  miles  farther,  500  ;  and  so 
on  tni  the  whole  herd  is  "  turned  out.*'  Not  always, 
however,  is  the  long  journey  accomplished  in  one  season ; 
unforeseen  obstacles — early  snowstorms  and  other  causes — 
may  have  delayed  them  on  the  road,  obliging  the  party  to 
"  lay  over  "  the  winter.  This  they  do  by  stopping  at  the 
first  unoccupied  grazing  land  they  reach,  A  temporary 
ranche  is  erected,  the  waggon  with  a  couple  of  men  is 
despatched  to  the  next  settlement,  often  100  miles  off, 
to  fetch  provisions  for  the  winter,  and  there  they  remain 
till  spring,  when  the  '*  cow-camp  *'  is  broken  up,  and  the 
party  proceed  towards  their  destination — eighteen  months 
and  more  intervening,  in  such  cases,  between  the  day  the 
owner  set  out  on  his  voyage  to  purchase  his  cattle  and  the 
day  they  reach  their  future  home. 

The  permanent  ranche  building  is  often  only  a  Httle  better 
than  the  temporary  one — formed  of  logs,  the  interstices  filled 
with  a  mixture  of  mud  and  sand,  making  the  inside  (one 
chamber,  with  a  fireplace  in  one  corner,  and  two  or  three 
bunks  along  one  of  the  walls)  fairly  weather- tight.  The 
door  moving  on  raw-hide  hinges,  is  made  of  packing- 
case  boards,  and  one  small  window  cut  into  the  logs.  And 
yet  you  will  find  very  contented  beings  in  these  miserable 
dwellings.  Plenty  of  vigorous  exercise,  a  life-giving  air, 
and  the  absence  of  the  vitiating  pleasures  of  civilization, 
go  a  long  way  in  making  the  lot  of  these  jovial,  light- 
hearted  cowboys  by  no  means  an  unenviable  one. 


362  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

The  social  features  of  stock-raising  are  as  peculiar  as  th* 
natural  ones;  and  if  we  follow  the  steps  of  the  more 
adventurous  ranchemen,  pushing  Westwards,  edging  the 
red  man  from  his  happy  hunting-grounds,  replacing  the 
buffalo  and  elk  with  domestic  kine,  we  read  also  a  piece  of 
frontier  history. 

The  peopling  of  a  new  Territory  is  an  interesting  study. 
We  see  the  tide  of  emigration,  called  forth  by  the  discovery 
of  gold,  sweep  over  the  land ;  a  period  of  crazy  speculation 
and  lawless  ruffianism  ensues,  only  to  end  in  another 
Westward  start  for  new  fields,  leaving  behind  a  small 
residuum — the  "  colour  of  the  gold- washer's  pan,"  or,  in 
other  words,  the  less  adventurous  but  more  industrious  and 
thrifty,  and  hence  a  valuable  portion  of  the  emigratory 
horde — as  the  founders  of  a  new  community. 

For  the  last  ten  years  the  ranchemen  have  played  a  very 
prominent  part  in  the  peopling  of  new  countries,  and 
generally  of  those  which,  by  their  elevation  or  poorness  of 
soil,  could  not  be  turned  to  any  other  use.  Not  a  few  of 
Western  cities  subsist  on  the  stock  business  ;  and  portions 
of  Wyoming  and  Montana  would  no  doubt  be  still  the 
dreary  uninhabited  steppe  deserts  they  were  a  decade  ago, 
were  it  not  for  the  stock-breeder. 

There  are  a  good  many  false  notions  abroad  respecting 
the  general  character  of  Western  men.  Of  the  old-time 
gold-digger  we  have  a  series  of  unpleasantly  faithful 
pictures  in  the  writings  of  certain  clever  American  authors ; 
but  it  would  be  a  great  mistake  to  apply  their  mould  to 
all  others,  and  especially  to  stockmen,  who,  as  a  rule,  I 
found  to  be  a  thrifty,  energetic,  and  very  hospitable  class. 
Strangers,  and  particularly  Englishmen,  will  be  struck  by 
this  la&t  feature— -all  the  more  welcome  in  those  uncivilized 


Camps  in  Cowhoyland.  363 

regions,  inhabited  in  our  fancy  by  a  race  of  desperadoes, 
whose  only  law  is  the  revolver,  whose  only  god  is  whiskey, 
and  whose  one  prayer  is  foul-mouthed  blasphemy.  This, 
however,isnot  so ;  though  naturally — as  in  all  new  countries 
where  society  is  jumbled  together  of  the  most  heterogeneous 
elements ;  where  one  neighbour  is  a  gentleman  by  birth 
and  education,  an  Oxford  undergraduate  or  a  Yale 
College  student,  whose  love  for  a  roving  life  has  led  him 
to  exchange  a  luxurious  existence  for  one  of  activity  and 
adventure  in  the  West ;  the  other,  as  a  strange  contrast,  a 
rough,  uncouth  "Western-raised  **boy/*  an  old  prospector, 
or  even  a  desperado,  who,  after  a  quarter  of  a  century's 
adventure  in  the  wilds  of  Arizona,  New  Mexico,  or  Texas, 
has  now  settled  down  to  steady  work  on  his  ranche — the 
English  settler  will  for  some  time  sadly  miss  the  social 
laws  which  govern  the  intercourse  of  different  classes  in 
the  old  world.  At  first  he  will  not  like  the  independence 
of  the  cowboy  under  him,  who  by  look  and  manner  will 
let  him  know  that  the  question  who  is  the  better  man  of 
the  two  has  long  been  settled  in  his  own  mind.  His  hands 
will  itch  when  some  saucy  "  Do  it  yourself "  is  the  only 
answer  he  receives  to  some  order  concerning  a  matter  not 
quite  within  the  scope  of  his  "  help's  ^'  duties.  In  time  he 
will  get  'accustomed  to  the  ways  and  manners  of  the 
country  ;  and  if  there  is  no  false  pride  about  him,  the  good 
points  of  the  English  character,  to  which  none  are  more 
keenly  alive  than  the  Western  men,  will  have  gained  him 
not  only  the  good- will  but  the  devoted  attachment  of  the 
free-handed  boys  I 

To  speak  of  my  own  experience,  I  ma)''  mention  that 
often,  cold,  hungry,  and  weary,  I  rode  up  to  an  isolated 
cattle-ranche,  bespeaking  a  meal  and  shelter  for  the  night 


364  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

The  best  of  everytliing  would  be  offered.  Hay,  alwaya 
scarce  in  those  regions,  would  be  given  to  my  horse,  and 
the  snuggest  corner,  the  warmest  blankets  be  forced  upon 
me.  Many  times  have  I  extended  my  visit  for  two  or  three 
days,  and  yet  not  a  penny  would  my  hosts  accept  on 
parting.  To  this  I  would  fain  tag  a  word  of  warning  to 
Englishmen  intending  to  settle  as  cowboys.  It  is  "  to  do 
as  others  do.'^  That  marked  feature  of  America,  social 
equality,  which,  while  it  has  often  a  way  of  expressing 
itself  in  a  very  extravagant  and  disagreeable  fashion,  is 
undoubtedly  a  main  factor  in  the  unusually  rapid  growth 
of  the  Great  West,  must  never  be  forgotten  by  the  English 
settler.  A  man  out  West  is  a  man,  and  let  him  be  the 
poorest  cowboy  he  will  assert  his  right  of  perfect  equality 
with  the  best  of  the  land,  betraying  a  stubbornness  it  is  vain 
and  unwise  to  combat.  This  is  an  old  truth,  and  numberless 
writers  have  expatiated  upon  it.  In  connexion  with  the 
cattle-business,  it  is,  however,  of  tenfold  importance ;  in 
no  vocation  is  popularity  more  essential  than  in  this,  for 
let  a  man  receive  once  the  name  of  being  moved  by  un- 
sociable pride,  and  there  will  not  be  a  man  in  the  country 
who,  while  he  otherwise  would  gladly  share  his  last  pipe 
of  tobacco  or  cup  of  coffee  with  him,  will  not  then  be  ready 
and  willing  to  spite  or  injure  him.  In  no  busfness  is  a 
man  so  dependent  upon  his  neighbours,  so  open  to  petty 
annoyances,  and  so  helplessly  exposed  to  vindictive  injurjf 
to  his  property,  as  in  stock-raising  out  West.* 

*  For  more  detailed  information,  see  Appendix, 


CHAPTER  Xin. 

REMINISCENCES   OF  THE   WEST, 

•■  It  is  not  wealth,  nor  birth,  nor  state ; 
Bat  get  up  and  git,  that  makes  man  great." 

A  Bard  of  the  Eockies. 

The  traveller  is  often  asked  for  "first  impressiona **  of 
foreign  lands  he  has  visited.  The  West  grows  a  rich 
harvest  of  this  fruit,  and  there  are  people  who  never  stop 
gorging  their  minds  with  the  luscious  firstlings  of  frontier 
humour.  For  mine — to  speak  of  really  the  first  genuine 
impression — I  have  to  thank  a  far  more  familiar  and 
harmless  incident  than  any  of  the  typical  Western  scenes 
— the  audacious  "road-agent,"  or  grimly-grotesque  "hang- 
ing-bee," or  any  of  the  hundreds  of  such-like  evenements 
that  are  wont  most  to  impress  the  new  comer  j  I  got 
mine,  namely,  from  nothing  more  or  less  awful  than  a 
squealing  baby. 

There  was  nothing  very  peculiar  about  the  appearance 
of  this  baby.  Not  over-burdened  with  garments,  it  was 
strapped  in  Indian  fashion  to  a  board  about  two  feet  long 
and  one  foot  broad.  The  board  and  the  baby  were  lean- 
ing against  the  log  wall  of  a  frontier  shanty  on  its  shady 
side.     There  was  nobody  near ;  and  as  I  had  heard  a  good 


366  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

deal  about  the  'cute  dodges  employed  by  "Westerners  wben 
''pre-empting"  new  locations,  the  letter  of  the  land-la wa 
obliging  them  to  mark  possession  by  some  visible  and 
unmistakable  *'  squatter's  sign/*  I  imagined  this  possibly 
might  be  a  new  way  of  demonstrating  ownership  to 
would-be  "claim- jumper 8,"  always  ready  to  pounce  upon 
unprotected  property.  The  baby  seemed  very  happy ; 
its  little  arms  were  free,  and  kept  up  constant  movement 
— the  only  sign  of  life  on  the  arid,  dusty  plains  that 
surrounded  the  miserable  sod-roofed  shanty  with  oppres- 
sive vastness.  Urging  my  horse  a  little  closer,  I  remarked 
that  some  strings  were  dangling  about  the  baby's  neck, 
and  that  one  was  tied  to  the  big  toe  of  one  of  the  rosy 
little  feet  of  the  infant.  I  was  puzzled.  Dismounting 
from  my  tired  "  sawbuck,"  I  proceeded  to  examine  the 
arrangement  in  tape.  The  child  was  complacently  suck- 
ing at  a  bit  of  raw  pork,  about  the  size  of  a  large 
walnut,  tied  to  one  end  of  the  string,  while  the  other 
was  fastened,  as  I  have  said,  to  the  little  foot,  a  second 
piece  of  twine,  knotted  to  the  board  over  its  head,  pre- 
vented the  piece  of  meat  falling  to  the  ground,  should 
the  child  loosen  its  clutch.  Nine  men  out  of  ten  would, 
I  fancy,  have  immediately  detected  the  connecting 
link  between  the  toe  and  the  pork  I  was,  however,  the 
tenth,  for  at  that  time  you  could  not  have  seen  anywhere 
a  more  brilliant  specimen  of  the  genus  "  tenderfoot "  than 
I  was.  So  what  wonder  that  even  that  baby  began  to 
wax  wrath  at  the  density  of  my  perception,  and  with  the 
typical  Western  love  of  displaying  the  greatness  of  the 
**  biggest  country  in  the  world,  sir,''  it  forthwith  pro- 
ceeded to  give  me  that  first  genuine  impression  of  which 
I  have  spoken.     Its   face  suddenly  got  very  red,  then 


Reininiscences  of  the  West,  367 

bluisli  its  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  its  little  arms  beat 
the  air  with  frantic  energy.  It  gradually  dawned  upon 
me  that  the  baby  might  be  choking  ;  at  least,  had  a  grown- 
up person  evinced  such  symptoms,  I  certainly  would  have 
commenced  thumping  him  on  the  back.  My  native 
cautiousness  stood  a  sore  trial,  for  I  had  heard  that  to 
tamper  with  a  man's  land-claim  was  an  offence  visited  by 
**  shooting  on  sight,"  But  nevertheless  that  baby  acted 
its  part  in  such  a  life-like  manner  that,  had  not  at  that 
moment  the  mother  made  her  appearance,  I  think  I 
should  have  risked  rendering  assistance. 

"  That  baby  is  choking,  ma'am,"  I  cried. 

"  No  he  ain't,  and  he  can't,"  replied  she,  tersely  and,  for 
her,  truly,  for  at  this  instant  the  infantile  legs  also  began 
to  work — one  kick,  two  kicks,  and  there  on  the  bib  lay 
the  obstruction,  the  piece  of  pork,  jerked  from  the  baby- 
throat  by  the  judiciously  applied  string,  to  the  judiciously 
kicking  little  leg.  I  was  vastly  relieved,  but  also  vastly 
impressed. 

"  Ain't  you  ever  seen  this  a' fore,  mister  ?  "  queried  the 
woman — as  true  a  specimen  of  the  lady  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains— a  survival,  not  of  the  most  beautiful,  but 
certainly  of  the  fittest  as  ever  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of 
meeting. 

To  my  quavering  *'  No — 0 — o  "  she  answered,  "  Then 
kind  o'  remembrance  it ;  mayhaps  yer  wife  won't  go  back 
on  it  ;'*  and  noticing  a  smile  on  my  face  she  added,  **but 
I  reckon  you  ain't  married  any  how ;  wa'al,  it'll  keep, 
you  bet."  And  keep  I  hope  it  will,  for  others  as  well  as 
for  me.  If  there  is  anything  that  could  possibly  tempt 
the  most  mysogynistic  old  bachelor  to  enter  a  more  bliss- 
ful condition,  it  would,  I  should  say,  be  the  hope  of  by- 


368  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

and-by  rigging  up  such  an  arrangement  in  strings,  and 
seeing  it  work  in  his  own  nursery. 

Several  years  have  passed  since  that  day,  I  have  seen, 
to  speak  metaphorically,  that  baby  in  a  hundred  different 
guises,  all  displaying  the  keenness  of  Western  intellect, 
and  from  sheer  habit  it  has  become  with  me  a  sort  of 
standard  wherewith  to  gauge  novel  and  striking  instances 
of  the  three  great  qualities  of  "Western  men — self-help, 
seK-confidence,  and  adaptabiKty. 

But  our  picture  of  the  frontiersman  would  hardly  be 
complete  were  we  to  leave  unnoticed  another  feature  of 
the  West,  namely,  its  humour.  Much  has  been  written 
about  American  wit,  and  in  the  preceding  pages  I  have 
essayed  to  give  some  of  its  spontaneous  emanations  as 
were  wont  to  crop  up  on  my  little  travels — genuine 
frontiersmen  my  companions.  Lincoln  said  the  grim 
grotesqueness  and  extravagance  of  American  humour 
were  its  most  striking  feature.  In  the  West  it  is  all- 
pervading  ;  from  cradle  to  the  death-bed,  through  sick- 
ness and  adversity,  it  cheers  the  Western  man.  Removed 
from  civilization,  we  see  it  in  its  happiest,  most  unlaboured 
garb,  dramatizing  dry  facts  into  flesh  and  blood.  The 
lingo  of  the  West,  so  rich  in  happily-coined  words, 
stands  in  close  connexion  with  it.  A  late  clever  author 
on  Americanisms,^  says  they  are  a  fair  representation  of 
the  Western  world,  which  has  been  created  on  a  larger 
scale,  which  in  its  turn  grows  faster,  works  harder, 
achieves  more  than  any  other  land  on  earth  has  done. 
Slightly  toned  down,  there  is  a  good  deal  of  truth  in 
what  he  says.  No  doubt  the  language  of  the  West  ts  an 
intensified  and  strangely  impulsive  speech,  just  as  the 
»  Dr.  De  Vere. 


Reminiscences  of  the  West,  369 

lifers  blood  of  the  whole  West  throbs  with  a  faster  pulse 
and  courses  with  fuller  vigour  through  all  its  veins. 

In  the  West  good  stories  are  rife,  and  to  the  stranger 
nothing  is  more  puzzling  than  to  tell  their  real  age.  In 
the  phenomenal  complexity  of  social  organism  in  frontier 
country,  a  genuinely  healthy  good  story  never  dies,  and 
even  such  unwholesome  ones  as,  for  instance,  Greeley's 
coaching  horror,  will  evince  in  the  naturally  salubrious 
atmosphere  of  the  Plains  and  mountains  an  amazing 
tenacity  of  life. 

You  hear  a  good  story,  and  as  it  is  the  first  time,  you 
enjoy  it.  You  go  your  way,  and,  if  you  are  lucky,  you 
travel  from  Kansas  to  San  Francisco,  and  fate  permits 
you  to  grow  one  week  older  before  you  hear  it  for  a 
second  time  ;  but  hear  it  again  you  shall,  let  you  wander 
whither  you  will.  It  will  be  told  you  perhaps  while  sitting 
at  your  camp-fire  on  the  arid  Plains  of  New  Mexico  or 
while  cantering  along  at  the  side  of  an  Oregon  ''  Web- 
foot  ;'*  you  possibly  have  to  lend  your  ear  to  it  in  the 
depth  of  a  Nevada  silver-mine,  half  a  mile  under  the 
earth,  or  on  the  top  of  the  Great  Divide  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  three  or  four  miles  over  the  earth.  The  first 
six  words  sufiBce  to  put  you  on  the  track  of  it,  let  it  be 
ever  so  cleverly  adapted  to  entirely  difierent  circum- 
stances, let  the  narrator  make  ever  so  "  personally  con- 
ducted '*  a  story  of  it,  you  immediately  recognize  the  good 
old  tale  you  heard  the  first  time  in  Chicago,  San  Antonio, 
or  Sacramento,  till  finally  sheer  practice  enables  you  to 
point  them  as  easily  as  were  their  trails  marked  in  the 
fashion  of  the  Miook  Indians  in  California,  who  used  to 
drag  the  carcass  of  a  defunct  "fragrance  pedlar,"  i.e. 
skunk,  along  the  intricate  paths  through  the  forests,  so  as 

Bb 


370  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

to  enable  their  friends  to  follow  tliem  guided  by  theii 
noses. 

Some  good  atones  take  their  origin  in  the  Eastern  Cities, 
but  by  the  time  they  reach  the  Territories  they  are 
"Westernized.  The  Coroner's  good  story  is  an  instruc- 
tive instance  of  the  adaptability  of  some  of  the  Eastern 
tales  to  Western  life.  I  have  traced  its  origin  to  facts 
which  occurred  in  New  York  A.D..1879.  In  that  year, 
as  I  see  from  a  leading  New  York  daily  paper  now 
lying   before  me,  reporting    the  proceedings,'  a  famous 

case  of  bogus  inquests  was  unearthed.      Coroner  D was 

the  ingenious  official,  and  in  the  course  of  the  law 
proceedings  it  was  proved  that  this  gentleman,  whose 
domain  was  Staten  Island,  near  New  York,  where  numerous 
cases  of  found  drowned  are  the  rule,  had  hit  upon  the 
ingenious  plan  of  anchoring  a  corpse  in  a  quiet  cove  of  the 
sea,  and  holding  inquest  at  will  on  him.  When  discovered, 
nine  Coroner's  inquests  had  sat  on  this  one  specially 
RESEiivED  corps,  cach  putting  a  shabby  nine  dollars  into 
his  pocket.  The  idea  was  one  that  *'took."  Cases  of 
anchored  corpses  were  heard  of  all  over  the  Union.  Inland 
cities  that  had  no  rivers  or  lakes  handy,  had  always  town- 
water  reservoirs  to  fall  back  on.  Everything  gets  old  very 
quickly  in  America,  and  by  the  time  California  had  gripped 
the  idea,  it  had  assumed  very  mature  form,  though  only  a 
few  short  weeks  had  elapsed  since  Coroner  D 's  pre- 
liminary examination  in  New  York,  a  fact  which  the 
following  conversation  between  a  Californian  official  and 
a  San  Francisco  Judge,  as  reported  by  a  'Frisco  paper  will 
prove : — 

"  *  The  fact  of  it  is,*  said  old  Dr.  Potts,  the  Los  Angelos 
«  The  World,  June,  1879. 


Reminiscences  of  the  West,  3  7 1 

Coroner,  the  other  da}',  as  he  strolled  through  the  morgue 
with  Judge  Yan  Snyder,  *  the  fact  of  it  is,  that  these  San 
Francisco  coroners  don^t  really  understand  how  to  work  up 
their  business  for  all  its  worth,  and  make  it  boom  as  it  were.' 

" '  What  do  you  mean  ? '  said  the  Judge,  somewhat 
horrified. 

"  *  Why,  they  don't  know  how  to  really  run  a  corpse  for 
all  the  coin  that  is  in  it.  They  don't  handle  'em  scienti- 
fically, so  to  speak.  Now  we  do  that  sort  of  thing  better 
down  our  way.' 

''*Do,  eh?' 

*'  *  Yes.  For  instance,  there  was  a  Chinaman  killed  by 
smoking  opium  a  few  months  ago,  out  in  the  suburbs  of 
our  town,  and  of  course  I  was  around  there  and  had  sworn 
in  a  jury  before  the  cadaver  got  cold,  and  what  with 
Bummoning  witnesses,  taking  testimony,  &c.,  before  night 
I  had  a  bill  against  the  county  for  $96.50.' 

**  *  More  than  the  Chinaman  was  worth,  I  should  think," 
said  the  Judge. 

*'  *  But  wait.  I  opened  the  grave  in  the  county  burial- 
ground  the  same  night,  rushed  the  corpse  down  to  the  labo- 
ratory and  had  it  embalmed,  and  all  ready  for  emergencies. 
Well,  about  three  nights  after  that  they  had  a  free  fight 
out  at  the  Digger  Indian  encampment,  and  so  I  had  the 
Celestial  pigtail  cut  short,  a  few  feathers  twisted  in  it,  and 
hid  him  in  a  bush  out  that  way.  Of  course  it  was  dis- 
covered pretty  soon,  and  reported  ;  and  as  the  jury  couldn't 
agree  as  to  the  particular  tribe  of  Indians  the  deceased 
belonged  to,  I  impannelled  another  one — nearly  double  the 
fees,  don't  you  see  ? — and  gave  the  papers  a  rousing  good 
item.  It's  a  way-up  plan  to  keep  in  with  the  reporters, 
by  the  way.' 

Bb  2 


372  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

"  *  How  much  did  that  make?  ' 

**  *  Well,  I  was  about  $240  ahead  on  the  speculation  then, 
80  I  waited  until  a  lot  of  Dago  emigrants  passed  through 
the  town,  and  the  next  day  one  of  'em  was  found  dropped 
dead  on  the  road  of  heart-disease — don't  you  see  ?  Same 
old  corpse,  with  a  big  felt  hat  and  rawhide  boots,  and  his 
pocket  full  of  macaroni.  I  think  I  squeezed  about  $175 
more  out  of  the  tax  payers  that  time.  Well,  I  kinder  let 
up  for  about  a  week  after  that,  and  then  had  the  remains 
doubled  up  in  a  packing-box  and  found  among  the 
unclaimed  freight  down  at  the  railroad  station.  The 
papers  wrote  it  up  as  a  "  Mysterious  Murder  Case/'  and  we 
had  a  ten  days'  examination.  Lem'me  see,  I  think  it  was 
$445.50  the  whole  thing  panned  out  before  we  were 
through  that  time.     What  do  you  think  of  that  P ' 

*•  *  Why,  it's  the  most  extraordinary — ' 

"  *  Why,  that's  nothing,  my  dear  sir,  nothing.  I  haven't 
got  half  through  with  that  Chinaman  yet.  When  I  left 
home  I  just  kinder  wedged  him  in  among  the  top  branches 
of  a  tree  in  the  woods  just  out  of  town,  dressed  in  a  suit  of 
complete  black  with  an  old  telescope  in  his  coat-tail 
pocket,  and  a  pair  of  big  green  spectacles  on  his  nose. 
Catch  the  idea,  don't  you  ?  * 

«*' Can't  say  I  do.' 

"  *  Why,  that's  the  aeronaut  dodge,  don't  you  see  ? 
Unknown  scientific  party,  fallen  out  of  a  balloon.  My  own 
design  entirely.  Splendid,  isn't  it  ?  The  corpse  is  a  little 
worn  by  this  time,  I  know ;  but  what  are  you  going  to  dc 
with  such  an  infernally  unhealthy  climate  as  Los  Angelos? 
I  expect  to  send  the  old  lady  and  the  girls  to  Paria 
n  tliose  remains  yet,  if  I  have  to  wire  'em  together  t^ 
do  it.     No,   my  dear    sir,   depend   upon   it  what  those 


Reminiscences  of  the  West.  373 

metropolitan  coroners  lack  is  push,  enterprise,  sir,  and 
ingenuity/ 

'^  And  the  doctor  reluctantly  stopped  poking  a  defunct 
stock  speculator  with  his  cane,  and  permitted  the  Judge  to 
take  him  out  for  a  drink.** 

Now  for  the  practical  application  of  the  tale. 

Four  months  later  an  acquaintance  of  mine,  while 
travelling  in  the  wilds  of  the  West,  had  the  following 
occurrence  happen  to  him.     I  give  it  in  his  own  words. 

*'  On  a  considerable  river  we  had  to  cross,  notorious  for 
its  quicksands,  we  found,  much  to  the  surprise  of  my 
men,  a  newly  erected  ferry  close  to  a  desolate-looking  log 
cabin.  The  charges  written  on  a  board  near  the  cabin 
were  high,  and  would  have  amounted  to  fifteen  dollars  for 
my  outfit.  The  river  was  low,  and  my  men  had  crossed 
it  several  times  at  a  ford  they  knew  half  a  mile  below  the 
ferry.  They  decided  to  try  the  ford.  When  we  got  there 
we  found  a  freshly  made  grave  close  to  the  river  bank, 
and  written  on  a  rude  wooden  cross  the  following  epitaph : — 

*  Here  are  drowned  and  buried  Old  John,  from  Texas,  and  Lame 
Billy,  his  brother.  N.B. — The  ferry  is  less  than  half-a-mile  up  the 
river.* 

"  I  did  not  like  this,  and  wanted  to  prevail  on  my  men  to 
turn  back  and  use  the  ferry  rather  than  risk  the  quick- 
sands. But  they  would  not  hear  of  it ;  they  knew,  they 
said,  that  the  ford  was  perfectly  safe — which  indeed  it 
proved  to  be.  The  whole  outfit  had  crossed  except  my 
headman,  and  when  I  looked  back  I  saw  him,  to  my 
astonishment,  engaged  in  digging  at  the  grave.  Five 
minutes  sufficed  to  show  that  Old  John  from  Texas  and 
Lame  Billy  his  brother  bad  not  been  old  trappers,  as  in 


374  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

the  innocence  of  my  heart  I  supposed,  but  two  old  mules. 
As  the  ford  was  situated  on  a  route  frequented  by  emigrants 
to  Oregon,  many  of  these  unfortunates  would,  no  doubt,  be 
frightened  to  use  the  ferry.  We  happened  to  pitch  camp 
for  the  night  close  to  the  river,  in  view  of  the  cabin  on 
the  other  side.  We  had  done  supper,  when  who  should 
make  his  appearance  for  an  evening  chat  but  the  *cute 
originator  of  the  grave  dodge,  the  practical  ferryman. 
To  listen  to  my  men  taking  him  down  was  worth  millions, 
though  in  Western  fashion  he  seemed  very  proud  of  his 
ingenious  trick.  *  Ever  seen  that  game  worked  afore  ? ' 
he  asked.  '  In  course  you  never  have ;  it's  mine ;  and  it 
pans  out  boss,  you  bet,  for  it  runs  them  emigrant  folk  right 
up  to  the  squealing-point.  It  struck  me  not  long  ago, 
when  reading  in  an  old  paper  of  that  yar  Yankee  Coroner 
who  kept  a  dead  man's  body  anchored  in  a  quiet  corner  of 
Staten  Island  bay.  That  er*  chap  ought  to  have  come 
West ;  too  good  by  a  full  hand  (poker  expression)  for  them 
Eastern  folk.'  ■" 

But  I  must  bring  to  a  close  my  rambling  disquisition 
on  a  theme  that  has  yielded,  and  will  yield,  food  galore, 
for  the  master-pens  of  great  humorists.  Let  me  rather 
make  an  attempt  to  picture  another  feature  of  frontier 
life,  not  so  oft  described  as  the  equally  ephemeral  Mining 
Emporium  of  the  great  Silver  and  Gold  Land  beyond 
the  Missouri,  namely,  a  pioneer  settlement  of  a  half- 
dozen  huts  that  does  not  owe  its  origin  to  the  wild  crazy 
search  after  precious  metals.  To  what  does  it,  then? 
the  reader  wiU  ask.  But  that  is  harder  to  answer; 
perhaps  to  a  broken  axle-tree;  to  a  sick  child  that 
finally  succumbed  to  the  terrible  hardships  of  emigrant 
travelling    in    the    ante-railway    days — a    visitation    of 


Reminiscences  of  the  West,  375 

Providence  which  has  hallowed  the  spot  where  their  only 
offspring  lies  buried,  and  upon  which  the  parents  have 
not  the  heart  to  turn  their  backs ; — or,  what  more 
frequently  occurred,  to  a  dash  of  a  band  of  yelling  red 
fiends,  which,  while  it  left  them,  as  a  piece  of  good  luck, 
with  their  hair  on  their  heads,  resulted  in  their  being 
stranded  in  the  middle  of  the  dreary  desert-like  Plains, 
hundreds  of  miles  from  the  next  settlement,  without  a 
single  horse  or  oxen  left  to  haul  their  heavy  waggon,  laden 
with  their  all  and  everything,  on  to  their  yet  very  distant 
goal  on  the  Pacific  shore.  The  next  water  and  timber- 
land  is  sought  ;  and  a  few  days'  wood-felling  and  hauling, 
two  pair  of  strong  arms,  a  brace  of  energetic  wills,  and 
the  first  hut  of  the  settlement  is  sod-roofed,  and  ready  for 
occupation. 

A  Chinese  proverb  says  woman's  heart  takes  a  lot  of 
breaking ;  but  this  could  be  equally  reasonably  said  of  the 
frontiersman's  organ.  He  is  constitutionally  a  sanguine 
being — all  his  surroundings  tend  to  make  him  that — so 
that  finally  when  he  does  strike  a  "  pocket,"  let  it  be  in 
precious  ore  or  in  the  way  of  surer  though  not  so  large 
gains  accruing  from  any  one  of  the  multifarious  under- 
takings this  Jack-of-all-trades  tackles  to,  he  makes  but 
another  one  of  the  thousands  of  vastly  energetic  settlers 
who,  not  so  many  years  hence,  will  have  connected  the 
rich  land  of  gold  and  corn — California — with  the  Mis- 
souri, by  one  unbroken  chain  of  States,  towns,  and  farming 
or  stock-raising  land. 

The  typical  pioneer  settlement  I  shall  attempt  to 
describe  is  one  of  this  sort.  There  are  only  some 
eight  or  ten  huts,  and  its  origin  was  an  emigrant's 
break-down,  which  three  or  four  years  ago  stranded  the 


376  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

oldest  inhabitant  in  that  neighbourhood.  His  few  cattle 
have  multiplied  at  a  patriarchally  fast  rate,  and  some 
other  emigrants  to  Oregon  have  acted  upon  the  old 
maxim  of  the  bird  in  the  hand,  and  have  let  Oregon  be 
Oregon.  I  visited  the  spot  on  two  different  occasions. 
The  first  time  (in  1879)  I  reached  the  few  scattered 
log-cabins,  nestling  under  the  beetling  brows  of  a 
gorge  intersecting  a  vast  upland  plateau  some  6000  or 
7000  feet  over  the  sea,  the  inhabitants  were  in  the 
throes  of  an  Indian  scare,  the  Utes  had  "  broken  out " 
150  miles  south,  had  massacred  a  lot  of  troops  that 
had  been  sent  to  subdue  them,  and  were  now  supposed  to 
be  on  the'war-path  northwards,  ready  to  do  as  a  kindred 
tribe  had  done  a  year  or  two  before,  i.e.  to  sweep  the 
whole  country,  and  butcher  the  solitary  white  settlers.  I 
happened  to  strike  the  settlement  a  day  or  two  after  the 
first  rumour  of  the  Ute  outbreak  had  reached  it.  Riding 
a  few  miles  ahead  of  our  men,  who  followed  with  the  pack- 
animals,  I  reached  the  cabins  some  hours  before  them. 
The  men  of  the  settlement  were  all  away  attending  to  a 
distant  cattle-drive ;  they  had  left  before  the  first  alarm, 
and  were  not  expected  back  for  some  days  yet.  The 
women — there  were  some  eight  or  nine  families — had,  on 
receipt  of  the  first  warning,  held  a  council  of  war,  in  which 
it  was  decided  to  retire  to  a  small  underground  "  fort " — 
cellar  would  describe  it  better — connected  by  a  subterranean 
passage  with  the  largest  log-cabin  of  the  settlement. 
It  was  hastily  provisioned ;  a  woman  who  was  in  child- 
bed brought  hither,  and  everybody  ready  to  repair  to  this 
last  refuge  at  the  first  approach  of  the  dreaded  foe.  My 
looksj  as  I  rode  up  to  the  first  shanty,  I  suppose  were  not 
very  reassuring.    Long  absence  in  the  wilds  of  the  moun- 


Reminiscences  of  the  West.  377 

tains  had  reduced  my  dress  to  the  last  extremity.  The 
skin  and  venison  of  a  Bighorn  I  had  killed  that  morning 
were  slung  over  my  saddle,  and  festooned  old  Boreas'a 
flanks,  while  my  hands  were  still  red  with  the  blood  of  my 
game,  as  I  had  passed  no  water  since  my  morning's  kill. 
Altogether  I  must  have  looked,  astride  of  my  pony,  who 
was  likewise  bespattered  by  blood,  a  somewhat  uncanny 
character.  Not  having  seen  a  white  man  for  some  time 
past  I  was  unaware  of  the  Indian  news,  and  hence  was  quite 
unprepared  for  the  shrill  "  Halt !  "  that  stopped  me  a  few 
yards  from  the  fence  surrounding  the  first  log-cabin.  On 
looking  at  the  spot  from  whence  issued  the  voice,  I  espied 
a  huge  needle- rifle  resting  on  the  top  bar  of  the  fence. 
Its  business  end  was  pointed  at  me  with  unpleasant  steadi- 
ness, while  at  the  butt  end  I  descried  a  diminutive  bit  of 
humanity  in  the  shape  of  a  boy  of  eleven  or  twelve. 

'^  Say,  stranger,  what  the are  you,  anyhow  P 

Be  you  a tarnal  redskin  half-breed,  or  a  white  man?" 

demanded  the  miniature  sentry,  who,  on  the  look-out  for 
Indians,  wanted  to  make  quite  sure  ere  he  let  me  pass. 
My  laughing  answer  was  followed  by  his  letting  down  the 
hammer  of  his  rifle ;  and  standing  up  under  the  shadow  of  his 
huge  old  arm,  at  least  a  foot  and  a  half  taller  than  himself, 
disclosing  to  me  a  bright-eyed  youngster  of  frontier  breed. 

'*  I  am  the  boss  in  this  yer  camp,"  he  replied  to  my 
query,  and  taking  from  his  trouser- pocket  a  roll  of  plug  he 
made  a  formidable  bite  at  it.  I  had  arranged  to  wait  for 
my  men  at  the  settlement,  so  dismounting  and  tying  up 
my  horse,  I  followed  his  indication  to  go  into  the  house, 
"  where  mam  oughter  (ought  to  be)  cooking  dinner." 

This  latter  personage,  busy  with  her  stove,  seemed 
Bomewhat  taken  aback   when  I   stalked  into   the  cabin. 


378  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

However,  slie  seemed  prepared  for  squalls — a  well-filled 
cartridge-belt  girthed  her  waist,  a  long  six-shooter  in  its 
sheath  being  attached  to  it,  while  a  Winchester  rifle  was 
leaning  against  the  stove  ready  for  immediate  action.  In 
ten  minutes  the  loquacious  Western  lady  had  informed 
me  of  the  state  of  things— had  told  me  in  what  a  per- 
petual state  of  fright  they  had  been  the  last  two  days; 
how  every  soul  in  the  settlement  retired  every  evening  to 
their  underground  **  fort ;"  and  how  they  longed  to  have 
heir  husbands  and  sons  back  again.  She  seemed  de- 
ighted  to  hear  that  my  party  would  presently  follow,  and 
that  we  had  seen  no  signs  of  hostile  Indians  further  north. 
After  partaking  of  dinner,  and  the  boy-sentry  being 
relieved  by  a  neighbour's  daughter,  I  made  the  round  of 
the  cottages  under  the  guidance  of  the  boy -sentry,  who 
turned  out  to  be  a  very  wide-awake  little  chap,  a 
genuine  Western -raised  child,  more  of  a  man  than  many 
a  swaggering  lout  double  his  age  further  East;  his 
astonishing  flow  of  bad  language  and  the  constant  appli- 
cation to  his  plug  being  the  only  drawbacks  to  a  more 
intimate  acquaintance  with  him. 

I  visited  the  cellar  "fort,"  and  comforted  the  sick  woman 
with  the  news  of  the  reinforcements  the  settlement  had 
received.  Some  twelve  feet  square,  with  loopholes  where 
the  walls,  only  seven  feet  high,  joined  the  earthwork  roof, 
it  seemed  a  safe  enough  place,  however  insufficient  in  its 
dimensions  to  hold  twelve  or  fifteen  human  beings.  The 
narrow  passage,  sloping  upwards,  some  four  or  five  yards 
long,  and  only  four  feet  high,  connecting  this  cellar- like 
excavation  with  the  body  of  the  log  shanty,  was  so  ar- 
ranged that  it  could  be  filled  up  with  earth  at  a  moment's 
notice,  while  the  heavy  pile  of  earth  that  covered  the 


Reminiscences  of  the  West,  379 

rafter  roof,  raising  it  slightly  over  the  ground,  made  it 
difficult,  if  not  impossible,  for  the  Indians  to  fire  the 
structure. 

My  men  arriving  in  due  time,  we  pitched  camp 
close  to  it,  and  remained  there  for  two  days,  giving  our 
worn-out  cattle  a  very  necessary  rest.  A  part  of  the  male 
contingent  of  the  settlement  returned  before  we  left,  and, 
as  was  not  unnatural,  felt  very  grateful  to  us  for  our 
presence.  Some  months  later,  in  the  depth  of  winter,  a 
ver}^  bad  snowstorm  compelled  the  **  English  outfit,'*  as 
my  party  was  called  in  the  Western  vernacular,  to  retrace 
their  steps  to  the  same  settlement,  and  there  we  were 
obliged  by  stress  of  weather  to  "  lay  over  "  for  an  entire 
week.  During  my  stay  there  Thanksgiving  Day,  the 
great  national  fete-day,  occurred.  Frontiersmen  are  an 
eminently  hospitable  people,  and  thus  I  was  not  astonished 
to  be  invited  in  a  hearty  manner  by  the  chief  personage 
of  the  little  settlement,  the  owner  of  a  typical  Western 
*'  store,*'  or  shop  containing  the  necessaries  of  daily  life, 
such  as  whiskey,  flour,  ammunition,  beaver  gloves,  and 
woollen  comforters.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  giving  on  this 
day  a  free  dinner  to  all  comers,  the  expenses  of  the 
repast,  for  which  a  turkey  had  been  provided  at  the  cost 
of  a  horseback  ride  of  more  than  100  miles  to  the  next 
town,  being  covered  by  the  "drinks,'*  sold  at  the  custo- 
mary rate  of  a  quarter  (one  shilling)  per  glass  of  whiskey. 

Though  the  snowstorm  was  of  the  severest,  the  men 
from  the  next  cattle-ranches,  forty,  fifty,  and,  one  or  two, 
seventy  miles  ofiF,  came  riding  in,  often  at  the  risk  of  their 
lives,  to  partalce  of  this  friendly  meal,  attracted  by  the 
welcome  change  in  their  lonely  ranch e  life.  I  was  myself 
glad,  once  again  after  months  of  roughing,  to  sit  down— 


380  Camps  in  tlie  Rockies, 

I  was  going  to  say  on  a  chair,  but  it  was  a  barrel— to  a 
square  meal,  served  on  a  table. 

The  inside  of  the  log  cabin  presented,  when  I  entered  it 
half  an  hour  or  so  before  dinner,  a  typically  Western  scene. 
The  only  room  of  which  it  consisted,  besides  the  store,  which 
was  in  an  adjacent  barn -like  structure,  was  filled  with  chat- 
ting and  laughing  groups  of  men,  all  attired  in  the  pecu- 
liar, practical,  and  not  un picturesque  frontier  dress,  in 
which  leather  and  huge  jingling  spurs  seemed  the  predo- 
minating features.  Tall,  lithe  men,  their  faces  aU  aglow 
after  their  long  rides  in  the  storm,  their  sombrero  hats,  often 
shapeless  structures  of  felt,  set  jauntily  on  their  heads, 
cartridge-belt  and  long  six-shooter  round  the  waist,  they 
were  all  busy  disposing  of  their  ^ore  dinner  diinks.  Here 
was  a  knot  of  trappers  fresh  from  the  mountains,  swapping 
stories  and  telling  big  yarns.  A  Httle  aside,  speaking 
with  my  own  trapper,  I  perceived  a  white-headed  old 
mountaineer,  dressed  in  worn  buckskin  from  head  to  foot, 
who,  as  soon  as  he  saw  me,  stepped  out  and  gave  me  right 
hearty  greeting.  The  old  fellow  was  one  of  the  best-known 
personages  in  frontier  country,  for  he  had  been  in  the  West, 
at  first  as  a  Fur  Company  trapper,  and  later  on  that  of  an 
Indian  scout,  for  the  last  fifty-one  years.  Port  knew  him 
well,  and  from  him  I  heard  a  good  deal  of  the  taciturn  old 
stag's  former  life.  Married  to  a  half-caste  girl  of  great 
beauty,  the  daughter  of  a  well-known  scout,  his  wife  eloped 
with  one  of  the  '49  miners;  and  the  story  goes  that  he  fol- 
lowed the  pair  through  the  West  for  six  years,  and  finally 
came  up  to  them  on  the  frontier  of  Mexico,  with  the  result 
that  shortly  there  were  two  people  less  in  the  world.  He 
himself  never  spoke  of  that  event,  or  indeed,  with  rare 
exceptions,  of  any  other  in  his  long  veteran  life  on  the 


Reminiscences  of  the  West,  381 

Plains  and  in  the  mountains.  At  the  camp-fireside,  where 
only  one  or  two  listeners  were  present,  and  these  were  old 
comrades,  his  taciturn  nature  would  now  and  again  shake  ofi 
some  of  its  reserve,  and  the  old  man  would  recount  events 
bearing  upon  the  subject  we  were  happening  to  discuss. 
Never  by  any  chance  was  there  about  his  tales  the  slighte&t 
ring  of  the  wonderful  or  sensational,  and  what  he  told  was 
narrated  in  such  naively  truthful  manner  that  its  veracity 
was  pleasantly  manifest.  We  had  to  tell  him  all  the  little 
incidents  of  our  expedition,  and  give  him  accurate  accounts 
of  the  localities  visited  by  us.  Now  and  again  he  would 
chip  in  with  some  pregnant  remark,  how  in  the  fall  of  '45 
or  in  winter  of  '34  he  had  trapped  that  'er  creek,  or  done 
some  hunting  with  the  Black  Snake  Sioux,  or  wintered  in 
a  dug-out  on  some  stream  we  had  passed;  or  how  in  '62, 
when  the  Sioux  and  Soshon^  were  "  out,*'  he  had  "  a  couple 
o'  months  scouting  of  just  the  liveliest  sort  with  them 
darned  'Rappahoes  (Arrappahoes),  the  doggarned  meanest 
cusses  of  redskins  ever  a  white  man  drew  a  bead  on  (shot 
at)." 

Presently  dinner — which,  in  the  meanwhile  was  being 
prepared  by  the  store-owner's  wife,  aided  by  a  neigh- 
bour's daughter,  on  the  iron  cooking-stove  occupying  one 
corner  of  the  room — was  announced  ;  and  the  steaming 
dishes  of  turkey,  haunch  of  bighorn,  potatoes,  and  "  corn,'' 
with  very  grateful  coffee  as  beverage,  were  placed  on  the 
long  board,  on  which  were  ranged  tin  plates  and  cups. 
All  the  guests  had  indulged  in  a  preliminary  "  fixing  up  " 
at  the  "  wash-basin,"  a  battered  gold-pan,  for  frontiers- 
men are,  as  a  rule,  very  cleanly  people.  I  recall  few 
occasions  that  I  did  not  notice  the  raggedest  cowboy 
before  sitting  down  to  his  meal  first  washing  his  hands 


382  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

in  the  battered  old  tin  wasli-hand  basin,  and  using  tbe 
'*  Jerusalem  Overtaker*' — as  he  calls  the  remnant  of  a  tooth- 
comb,  tied  with  a  bit  of  string  to  the  fragment  of  a  looking- 
glass,  mostly  the  size  of  one's  hand,  fastened  to  the  logs  of  the 
cabin.  In  frontier  settlements,  when  returning  from  their 
half-yearly  roamings  in  the  wilds,  the  mining  prospector 
or  trapper  will  usually  have  a  general  '*  overhauling ''  to 
do  honour  to  the  occasion  of  again  seeing  a  white  woman. 
He  will  scrub  his  face  and  hands  with  soap  and  sand,  and 
torture  himself  by  the  application  of  his  whetted  skinning 
knife  to  the  tangled  beard  of  six  months*  growth,  while 
his  sailor's  needle  and  "  buckskin  "  thread  are  set  to  work 
patching  any  very  glaring  defects  in  his  deerskin  or 
canvas  wardrobe.  Many  and  many  a  time  have  I  watched, 
with  curiosity  mingled  with  amusement,  the  behaviour 
of  these  uncouth  men  of  the  wilderness  when  in  white 
woman's  presence.  The  rough  joke,  the  threatened  oath, 
the  careless  fling  of  some  saucy  answer  to  a  fellow  crafts- 
man, are  hushed — stayed  as  abruptly  as  could  the  hand, 
that  in  child-like  fashion  is  brought  up  to  the  mouth, 
thrust  back  the  half- uttered  jest,  or  the  yet  unpronounced 
name  of  the  Deity.  The  "Western  woman's  word  is  never 
disputed.  Her  dignity,  savoir-faire,  and  independence  make 
her  the  master  of  the  most  puzzling  situations. 

An  acquaintance  once  witnessed  a  scene,  which  will  illus- 
trate the  frontier  woman's  privileges.  I  wiU  narrate  it  in 
his  own  words  : — 

"  It  was  at  a  remote  little  settlement,  consisting  of  some 
twenty  log  cabins,  tenanted  by  burly  pistol-girt  miners, 
three  or  four  "  baching  *'  (bacheloring)  in  every  hut. 
Two  cabins,  however,  knew  woman's  face,  the  wives  of 
the    owners,  who  were  the  '  lop  shelfers  *  of  the    little 


Reminiscences  of  the  West  383 

frontier  colony.  The  two  husbands,  close  neighbours  had 
some  '  difficulty/  and  when  I  became  the  inmate  of  one 
of  the  two  *  married  '  huts  *  shooting  on  sight '  had  been 
threatened  and  counterthreatened.  The  morning  follow- 
ing my  arrival,  while  I  was  sitting  in  front  of  the  door, 
the  enemy's  lady  hove  in  sight,  and  passing  me  made  her 
way  into  the  hut,  where,  while  everything  from  the 
double-barrelled  shot-gun,  standing  at  full  cock  in  the 
corner,  to  two  Colts  in  the  belt  of  the  owner,  was  in 
readiness  to  receive  her  spouse,  the  unexpectedness  of 
her  **  coup  "  resulted  in  a  grand  victory  for  her.  Going  up 
to  the  unfortunate  man,  she  began  to  belabour  his  face 
and  head  with  the  brawny  fists  of  a  frontierswoman. 
The  victim,  a  huge  fellow,  who  could  have  crushed  her 
with  one  tap  of  his  sledge-hammer  biceps,  never  raised 
himself  from  the  chair  on  which  he  was  seated,  but 
presently  remarked,  in  the  drawl  of  his  Eastern  home, 
'Neow,  you'd  better  skin  (leave),  or  fix  for  a  squar' 
fight,  for  she  be  a  coming,'  alluding  to  his  own  wife,  who 
was  approaching  the  hut.  The  next  day  the  promised 
on-sight  business  did  come  ofi",  and  the  man  who  never 
raised  his  finger  to  stay  the  summary  chastisement  in- 
flicted by  a  woman,  shot  her  husband — the  same  fate 
threatening  him,  only  his  was  the  handier  of  the  two 
guns." 

But  to  return  to  my  Thanksgiving  dinner.  The  two 
xhairs  the  hut  contained  were  reserved  for  the  two  women, 
the  men  being  seated  on  barrels  and  old  packing-cases. 
A  merrier  or  more  enjoyable  dinner  I  have  not  often  sat 
down  to ;  and  as  I  looked  round  and  noted  the  bright 
faces  all  aglow  with  rude  health,  and  noted  the  zest  and 
pleasure  sparkling  in  the  eyes  of  at  least  the  younger 


384  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

portion,  mostly  Texas  cowboys,  as  full  of  ready  wit  and 
fun  as  they  were  of  dare-devilry,  and  further  remarked 
what  a  salutary  influence  the  presence  of  the  two  women 
exercised  upon  these  rough  fellows  and  their  conversation, 
I  could  not  help  drawing  a  favourable  comparison  with 
similar  incidents  under  like  surroundings  in  countries 
claiming  a  higher  degree  of  civilization.  Not  an  oath  or 
unsuitable  word  fell  on  my  ears  while  the  women  were 
present. 

There  were  several  characters  present  which  I  either 
knew  personally  or  had  heard  about.  One,  old  "  Trading 
Jack,"  a  quaint  old  mountaineer  I  had  previously  met, 
had,  much  to  the  astonij^hment  of  the  party,  failed  to  put 
in  his  appearance.  He  inhabited  an  old  dug-out,  forty 
miles  up  the  mountains ;  for,  when  the  settlement  increased 
to  half -a-  dozen  or  so  of  families,  the  quaint  old  stag,  who 
had  lived  his  life  in  lonely  seclusion,  found  the  country 
got  crowded,  and  had  retired  to  his  dug-out  in  the  moun- 
tains. Poor  fellow  !  while  we  were  sitting  there  discussing 
the  absent  one,  nearly  everybody  having  a  story  or  two  to 
tell  of  the  eccentric  old  fellow,  he  was  wrestling  with  a 
terrible  death,  the  details  of  which  I  heard  some  months 
later.  He  was  out  setting  bear-traps,  and  while  so  occu- 
pied he  was  caught  by  the  heavy  beam  of  one  of  his 
"  falls,"  which  are  so  set  as  to  come  down  with  great  force, 
either  killing  the  bear  outright  by  breaking  his  back,  or 
imprisoning  him.  This  heavy  log  had  come  down  on  old 
Jack,  only  maiming  but  not  killing  him  ;  for  when  his  re- 
mains were  found  some  week  afterwards,  his  legs  gnawed 
oQ  by  wolves,  there  were  unmistakable  signs  of  his  having 
tried  to  cut  the  beam  asunder  with  his  knife.  How  long 
he  remaHed  alive,  nobody  of  course  could  tell.      Thua 


Reminiscences  of  the  West.  385 

poor  old  Trading  Jack  got  *'  rubbed  out."  The  preceding 
Thanksgiving  Day  he  had  been  present,  and  one  of  the 
company  told  me  how  the  old  fellow,  who  on  account  of 
his  religious  devotion  was  supposed  to  have  once  been  a 
preacher,  said  grace  on  that  occasion. 

It  seems  that  the  entertainer  had  asked  him  to  do  so, 
and  I  must  mention  that  this  personage,  an  old  miner  by 
profession,  had  been  once  blown  up  in  a  mine,  disfiguring 
his  face  and  entailing  the  loss  of  one  hand,  which  was  re- 
pU\ced  by  an  iron  hook.  '^  Rising  and  fumbling  with  the 
hilt  of  his  hunting-knife,"  my  neighbour  proceeded  to  tell 
me,  "  old  Jack  began :  *  Wa'al,  boys,  it's  kinder  mean  of 
that  thar  man  with  the  one  eye,  iron-hook  paw,  and 
skunk-backed  nose  to  pass  the  kiards  in  that  'er  fashion ; 
but,  boys,  I  am  thar  when  I  am  thar,  so  don^t  you  bark 
up  a  wrong  tree,  and  rest  for  a  straddle  on  that  thar  bKnd. 
This  thar  is  a  boss  day,  and  I'm  always  kinder  willin'  and 
ready  to  remembrance  the  Old  Boss  up  in  hiven,  to  thank 
Him  for  His  mighty  goodness  to  us  all,  when  I  once  gets  on 
His  track  ;  so,  boys,  let's  pray,  as  white  men  oughter  on 
this  thar  day.'  "  This  quaintly-worded  introduction  was 
probably  on  a  pur  for  grotesquely  -expressed  religious  de- 
votion with  the  grace  itself,  which  latter  my  informant 
had  mostly  forgotten;  remembering  only  that  the  old 
fellow  ended  it,  not  with  the  usual  Amen,  but  with  **  Yours 
truly  and  obediently,  Trading  Jack.'' 

Of  the  Western  types  present,  there  was  one  I  would 
desire  to  introduce  to  the  reader.  He  sat  next  to  me  on 
my  left,  and  for  a  long  time  kept  silent,  but  his  notorious 
**  leading  subject "  was  not  to  be  thus  subdued.  By  birth 
a  Prussian,  a  native  of  Berlin,  he  had  been  leading  for 
the  last  eight-and-twenty  years  the  precarious  life  of  a 

c  c 


386  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

prospector,  beginning  far  in  the  East  in  Missouri,  where 
he  demonstrated  to  me  the  largest  coal-fields  in  the  world 
were  situated,  he  had  finally  reached  a  point  1500  miles  west 
of  where  he  commenced.  He  was  known  as  Dutch  Cent, 
the  latter  being  the  abbreviation  of  hundred,  which  arose 
from  the  circumstance  that  in  his  long  wanderings,  it 
was  said,  he  had  with  the  instinct  of  a  genuine  Teuton  built, 
or  as  the  Western  phrase  has  it,  located  more  than  1 00 
homes  for  himself.  A  log  cabin  is  very  quickly  built,  and 
such  was  the  passion  of  this  grey-headed  old  bachelor  for 
house-building,  that  wherever  he  stopped  for  more  than 
a  passing  visit  he  would  build  himself  a  house,  and  then 
when  the  fever  of  prospecting  came  over  him  again,  pack 
his  blankets,  tin  cup,  and  gold-pan  on  his  old  mule,  the 
"  oiler  Fritz,"  and  start  out  for  pastures  new. 

In  the  course  of  my  wanderings  I  had  come  upon 
several  of  Cent's  cabins,  some  mere  charred  ruins,  others 
in  a  fairly  good  condition.  Another  peculiarity  was  that 
while  in  ordinary  every-day  life  you  could  not  have  found 
a  more  taciturn  companion,  whiskey  opened  his  heart, 
but  unfortunately  only  to  one  single  subject,  and  that  of 
all  others — Berlin.  To  judge  by  his  volubility,  when 
presently  he  did  begin  to  talk,  he  must  have  put  himself 
outside  a  large  dose  of  '*  tangle  speech.''  His  language 
was  a  strange  mixture  of  bad  English,  with  very  pro- 
nounced German  accent  and  frontier  lingo,  which  happy 
combination  made  it  at  first  somewhat  difficult  to  under- 
stand the  old  fellow.  Not  knowing  at  the  time  his 
penchant  for  his  native  city,  which  I  may  mention  he 
had  not  seen  for  close  upon  forty  years,  I  innocently 
answered  his  question  if  I  had  ever  visited  Berlin  in  the 
affirmative,  and  with  that,  much  to  the  amusement  of  the 


Reminiscences  of  the  West,  387 

boys,  I  delivered  myself,  a  self-immolated  victim,  into 
his  hands.  With  a  tantalizing  flow  of  language,  inter- 
larded with  even  more  bad  German  than  usual,  he 
persisted  in  describing  to  me  the  wonders  of  the 
"  Brandenburg  Gate  "  and  the  statue  of  "  old  Fritz  '^ — 
Carlyle's  hero,  Frederic  the  Great — their  position,  height, 
dimensions,  aspect,  material,  cost,  all  to  the  very  minutest 
detail  were  dwelt  on.  Finally  I  got  tired  of  my  neigh- 
bour's home- talk,  of  his  incessant  "My  Brandenburger 
Thor  "  and  "  My  oiler  Fritz,"  *  so  presently  with  serious 
face  I  informed  him  that  neither  of  these  monuments 
existed  any  more,  "  that  the  Nihilists  had  blown  them 
up."  The  old  fellow  looked  at  me,  and  though  he 
probably  did  not  understand  what  Nihilists  meant,  he  yet 
seemed  to  take  in  the  sense  of  blowing  up,  for  he  collapsed 
into  welcome  silence,  and  another  glass  of  whiskey  he 
presently  drank  sent  him  at  last  to  sleep. 

The  weather  clearing,  I  and  my  men  made  an  early  start 
next  morning,  and  I  had  proceeded  some  ten  or  twelve  miles, 
when  to  my  astonishment  old  Cent,  mounted  on  a  very  aged 
and  decrepit  animal,  came  galloping  after  us.  On  reaching 
us,  he  hardly  took  time  to  answer  my  greeting,  but  blurted 
out  in  anxious  tone  of  voice  whether  '*  it  was  drue  de  oUe 
Fritz  was  plow  up,  dem  poys  pack  at  the  ranche  had  dold 
him  I  had  said  so."  On  my  reassuring  and  telling  him  it 
was  only  a  joke,  I  asked  him  whether  he  had  come  all  that 
long  way  only  for  that  purpose.  "Fd  ridden  to  de  end  of 
Greation  to  hear  dat'^  was  his  answer,  and  about  his  voice 
there  was  a  ring  as  if  he  quite  meant  what  he  said. 

In  frontier  country  now  and  again  little  adventures  can 
be£&ll  the  traveller,  though  they  are  much  rarer  than  the 
•  The  Berlin  idiom,  oiler,  for  alt,  or  old. 
cc  2 


588  Camps  in  th^  Rockies. 

literature  of  the  West  would  lead  one  to  suppose.  In  my 
prolonged  experience  of  tlie  West  only  two  such  incidents 
happened  to  me.  Neither  would  be  worth  telling,  were  it 
not  for  the  very  circumstance  that  during  my  extended 
visits  to  frontier  regions  they  were  the  only  two  incidents 
of  the  typical  Western  character  that  came  within  my 
personal  cognizance. 

The  one  which  I  propose  to  relate  occurred  to  me  while  I 
was  temporarily  travelling  with  a  party  of  cattle-men.  We 
were  out  of  meat,  and  I  had  made  a  light  pack-camp  to  a 
neighbouring  range  of  steep  "buttes/'  where  I  hoped  to 
get  some  antelope  ;  and  on  my  return  to  our  route  missed 
connexion  with  the  men  I  was  with.  I  had  not  seen  a 
ranche  or  a  man's  face  for  nearly  two  days,  and  the 
desert-like  country  seemed  totally  uninhabited.  Striking  a 
creek  towards  evening,  I  followed  its  course,  hoping  to 
come  across  a  ranche  I  had  heard  the  men  talk  of.  There 
was  a  cattle-trail  along  its  banks,  so  I  continued  ray  jour- 
ney after  darkness  had  set  in — as  I  was  anxious  not  to 
delay  the  party,  and  I  knew  they  would  have  to  pass  the 
lonely  outpost  of  civilization  I  was  looking  for. 

It  must  have  been  close  upon  ten  o'clock  when  my 
horse  gave  unmistakable  signs  of  the  vicinity  of  a  human 
habitation,  and  presently  I  came  upon  a  beaten  trail  leading 
to  a  miserable  shanty,  half  "  adobe,"  half  log,  the  roof  not 
six  feet  from  the  ground,  covered  with  gravel  and  earth. 
It  was  the  long-looked-for  ranche.  All  was  dark,  and  not 
a  sign  to  show  the  dwelling,  if  so  it  deserved  to  be  called, 
to  be  inhabited.  The  door,  or  rather  the  apology  for  one, 
was  made  of  thin  packing  case  boards,  half  an  inch  between 
each,  so  that  neither  rain  nor  snow  were  shut  out.  Unpro- 
vided with  either  lock  or  latch,  it  flew  open  to  my  kick 


Reminiscences  of  the  West,  389 

Aloud  hallo  on  my  part  was  answered  by  a  gruff  voice 
inquiring  who  was  there.  Half  an  hour  later  a  cheerful 
fire  was  blazing  in  the  hut ;  my  horses  were  led  into 
the  sacred  enclosure  of  the  hayrick,  and  a  nice  supper 
of  bacon  and  beans,  the  best  the  men  had,  was  being 
discussed  by  me.  The  two  cowboys,  the  inhabitants  and 
owners  of  the  ranche,  typical  specimens  of  their  class, 
hospitable,  humorous,  and  full  of  life,  were  both  Texans, 
jovial,  merry- hearted  fellows  ;  and  very  soon  I  was  on  the 
best  of  terms  with  them. 

After  supper,  when  I  had  told  them  all  the  "  outside^' 
news,  and  my  tobacco-pouch  of  ample  proportions,  no  less 
than  the  contents  of  my  small  whiskey  flask,  that  golden  key 
to  cowboy  heart,  had  gone  the  round,  the  boys  proposed  a 
game  of  poker  "just  for  fun."  Indeed  it  could  not  very 
well  be  for  anything  else,  for  I  am  very  sure  my  cowboy 
friends  could  no  more  have  mustered  up  five  dollars  between 
them  than  I  could.'*  Though,  of  course,  out  West  among 
such  surroundings  I  would  never  play  cards  for  money,  I 
was  tempted  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing,  and  agreed 
to  take  a  hand.  To  heighten  the  fun  one  of  the  boys 
proposed  to  play  for  "  them  thar  new  boots,"  pointing  with 
his  thumb  to  the  corner  of  the  hut  occupied  by  a  low 
trestlework  bench  of  the  rudest  construction,  on  which 
generally  saddles,  boots,  &c.,  are  piled.  I  hardly  looked 
round,  and  neither  did  I  think  of  inquiring  why  the  elder  of 
the  two  men  wore  his  left  arm  in  a  sling.  As  a  set-off  to 
their  new  boots  I  offered  to  stake  a  spare  gaudily- 
soloured  silk  handkerchief  that  was  knocking  about  one 
of  my  saddle-pockets  ;   and  further  it  was  agreed  that  he 

*  When  once  out  in  the  wilds,  money  is  not  required ;  hence  it  if 
■ever  carried  about  on  one's  person. 


390  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

who  should  "  clear  out "  his  two  antagonists,  i.e.  win  all 
the  markers,  represented,  in  the  absence  of  anything  else, 
by  matches,  each  player  receiving  a  full  box,  was  to  win 
the  boots  and  handkerchief.  Soon  afterwards  we  were  lost 
in  the  intricacies  of  that  great  American  game;  "bluff" 
followed  '^  bluff,''  and  between  the  deals  cow-camp  stories 
were  told  with  that  peculiar  zest  and  dry  wit  so  humorous 
to  listen  to,  and  so  utterly  impossible  to  do  justice  to  all 
ludicrous  exaggerations  of  facts  on  paper.  Luck  favoured 
me,  and  by  a  final  big  hand  I  collected  the  sum  total  of  the 
matches  on  my  side  of  the  fire, — we  were  playing  stretched 
out  on  our  robes,  using  an  empty  waterpail  as  card -table, — 
and  I  was  pronounced  winner  of  the  boots.  *' Guess  you 
had  better  take  them  off  at  once,"  remarked  one  of  them  ; 
and  to  my  query  what  he  meant,  he  told  me  they  were  on 
the  saddle- rack  in  the  corner. 

Desiring  to  keep  up  my  incognito  a  little  longer  by 
entering  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing,  I  rose  and  stepped 
up  to  the  trestlework  frame.  A  very  ragged  horse-blanket 
was  spread  lengthwise  over  the  rough  wooden  framework, 
which  was  nearly  six  feet  in  length.  Something,  I  don't 
know  what,  whispered  to  me,  that  a  "  put-up  job  '* — prac- 
tical joke — was  in  the  air,  so  I  hesitated  to  remove  the 
cover.  The  men  perceived  it,  and  one  of  them  remarked, 
*' Needn't  be  sceered,  you  ain't  afeer'd  of  dead  men.*' 
Before  I  could  answer,  he  was  at  my  side,  and  with  one 
jerk  pulled  the  cover  off.  I  involuntarily  recoiled  a  step 
or  two,  for  there  on  the  trestle-frame  lay  a  dead  man,  on 
his  feet,  as  I  presently  learnt,  the  new  boots  I  had  won  I 

"  By  all  what's  good,  ain't  you  ever  seen  a  dead  man 
afore  ?"  broke  in  upon  the  silence,  long  before  I  had 
recovered  from  my  surprise.     "  You  see  we  had  a  little 


Reminiscences  of  the  West,  391 

•hooting  scrape  last  night,  and  Loafer  Dick  got  the  cold 
deck ;  he  was  ar'  always  kinder  ready  with  his  irons,  and 
just  a  bit  crooked  as  how  he  ingineered  his  aces,*  and  it 
warn*t  his  fault  that  the  six-shooter  missed  fire  ;  he  just 
creased  Hiram  with  his  second.  Hadn't  you  won  them 
ar'  boots,  Hiram  was  a'going  to  break  them  in  when  he 
rides  into  town  to  give  himself  up.  But  I  reckon  his  old 
on's  ought'er  good  enough  for  that  job;  anyhow  were'r 
off  to-morrow,  for  I've  got  to  go  'long  and  stack  the 
Bible  '^ — (appear  as  witness) — "  that  all  was  squar'  as  a 
new  born  kid,  for,  you  see,  Dick  pulled  first,  he  did,  and 
it  ain't  kinder  likely  that  a  cuss  '11  stand  that'^ 

I  slept  on  the  hayrick  that  night,  and  next  morning 
saw  vanquished  Loafer  Dick  laid  in  his  grave.  Hiram 
and  his  "  pard/'  the  former  with  Dick's  boots  on  his  feet, 
rode  off  to  the  city — a  collection  of  log  cabins,  ninety 
miles  off,  where  of  course  the  whole  case  resolved  itself 
into  justifiable  self-defence. 

The  bane  of  new  countries  is  the  absence  of  the  re- 
straining and  humanizing  influence  of  woman.  The  older 
States  of  the  Union  have,  as  the  census  very  clearly  de- 
monstrated, a  superabundance  of  what  would  make  *' suit- 
able wives  for  the  West."  There  is  a  good  deal  of  pathos 
in  the  constant  reference  to  a  "  home  "  in  some  far-away 
eastern  or  southern  states,  to  which,  on  a  little  nearer 
acquaintance  with  the  hospitable  and  keen-eyed,  though 
rough  men  of  the  frontier,  one  has  to  lend  one's  ear.  The 
poorest  log  cabin,  door  and  windowless,  a  tin-cup  and 
plate  being  about  all  that  reminds  one  of  civilization,  has 
generally  about  it  some  little  memento  of  *'  home.'*  A 
ghastly  ** tin-type"  portrait  of  a  buxom  dame,  or  of  a 
*  Cheated  at  cards. 


392  Camps  in  the  Rockies. 

young  girl,  a  blurred  print  of  an  eastern  town  cut  fron\ 
some  poorly  illustrated  paper,  if  the  owner  happens  to  be 
a  native  of  a  town,  tell  their  own  tale. 

I  once  happened  to  strike  a  ranche  more  than  usually 
remote  and  unvisited,  where  the  men,  two  lonely  young 
"  bachers,"  one  a  native  of  Yorkshire,  the  other  a  Texan, 
had  actually  during  the  long  summer  and  autumn  months 
not  only  never  set  eyes  upon  human  being,  except  Indians, 
but  had  lost,  strange  to  say,  reckoning  of  time,  for  while 
it  was  the  11th  of  November,  they  imagined  it  was  about 
the  middle  or  latter  part  of  October,  and  were  complaining 
of  the  early  winter.  "  We  don't  go  much  on  almanacks, 
you  see,"  they  said;  '*  but  just  to  know  when  to  finish  that 
last  bottle  of  Christmas-day  whiskey,  we'll  notch  off  the 
days  on  the  door-posts."  This  they  did,  each  taking  one 
post,  so  as  to  control  *'the  count."  One  of  the  men 
informed  me  he  had  been  on  three  cattle-drives  in  succes- 
sion, and  had  not  seen  a  white  woman  or  had  been  near 
any  settlement  for  two  years.  The  other  had  ridden  to 
the  next  "City"  the  previous  spring  for  provisions,  and  their 
only  visitor  since  then  until  our  unlooked-for  arrival  had 
been  an  old  trapper.  Game  abounding  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, I  stopped  with  them  a  day  or  two,  pitching  the 
camp  in  front  of  their  cabin.  I  was  not  a  little  amused, 
and  often  not  a  little  struck  by  the  ideas  and  impressions 
which  my  intercourse  with  these  two  lonely  young 
**  bachers  '*  revealed. 

Over  the  open  fireplace  in  their  hut  were  hung  a  couple 
of  spare  rifles  and  revolvers,  and  below  them,  nailed  to  the 
logs  with  old  horsehoe  nails,  were  two  pictures,  one  a  faded 
photograph  of  an  elderly  woman  of  unmistakably  English 
type,  the  other  a  cheap  print  of  San  Antonio  in  Texaa 


Reminucences  of  the  West.  393 

Over  them  and  connecting  the  two  was  nailed  a  slip 
evidently  cut  from  the  heading  of  a  newspaper,  bearing  in 
large  type  the  single  word  ''Home!*'  The  very  simplicity 
of  the  display  was  touching,  much  more  so  the  words 
of  the  young  recluses  when  alluding  to  the  aim  of  their 
present  existence,  a  speedy  return  to  their  own  countries 
as  rich  men,  a  goal  to  be  reached,  alas !  only  by  the 
most  arduous  labour  and  exposure  to  ever-present  danger. 
"  I'm  going  to  the  old  country  with  Jim/'  said  the  Texan. 
"  I  started  for  it  once  before  when  I  had  struck  a  rich 
ore-pocket,  but  I  didn't  get  there  quite; — I  got  as  far 
as  Newfoundland." 

More  than  twelve  months  later  I  happened  to  ramble 
close  to  the  vicinity  of  this  same  ranche,  and  curiosity 
tempted  me  to  ride  one  afternoon  over  to  their  home 
from  our  camp,  in  order  to  visit  the  two  young  fellows. 
It  was  long  after  dark  when  my  tired  horse  brought  me  to 
the  isolated  cabin  more  than  a  hundred  miles  from  the 
next  white  settlement.  A  door,  I  found,  had  been  hung 
by  rawhide  fastening  to  the  upright  logs  of  the  entrance, 
and  I  also  saw  that  the  only  window,  unglazed  of  course, 
was  supplied  with  a  shutter  made  of  the  same  material 
as  the  door,  Le.  packing-case  boards.  The  many  chinks 
between  the  logs,  of  which  the  hut  was  built,  betrayed 
that  the  inside  was  lighted.  I  pushed  open  the  door,  and 
as  I  did  so,  the  sight  that  burst  upon  my  eyes,  so  different 
from  what  I  expected,  rooted  me  to  the  spot.  A  bright 
lire  was  burning  in  the  open  fireplace,  the  source  of  the 
illumination,  and  seated  on  two  empty  packing-cases 
pushed  close  together,  was  our  Yorkshire  friend  Jim,  and 
a  buxom,  fair-haired  lass,  who  in  a  very  bashful  manner, 
uras  presently  introduced  to  me  as  "  the  wife.'*     It  was  a 


394  Camps  in  the  Rockies, 

little  picture.  The  strapping  young  fellow,  his  face  burnt 
to  a  ruddy  brown,  his  shapely  lithe  form  clad  in  buckskin, 
the  ever-present  Colt  in  his  girdle,  his  legs  encased  in  the 
long  leather  ^shaps  of  the  cowboy,  reaching  up  to  the  hips, 
one  arm  thrown  lightly  over  the  shoulder  of  the  woman, 
while  a  very  lately  arrived  squalling  young  frontiersman 
told  its  own  unspoken  story,  and  required  not  the  young 
husband's  shy  nod  towards  the  young  Westerner  or 
stumbling  explanation  to  prove  that  for  once  a  "  home,'* 
happy  and  peaceful,  had  been  found  on  foreign  soil.  I 
looked  around  the  log  interior ;  there  in  one  corner  was  a 
space  screened  off  by  a  horse- blanket  nailed  to  the  rafters, 
behind  which  was  spread  on  mother  earth  their  buffalo- 
robe  nuptial  couch,  while  a  tiny  looking-glass,  some  six 
inches  square,  hung  between  the  two  old  pictures,  still 
surmounted  by  that  single  plain  word  in  big  printer's 
type.  A  new  tin  cup  and  a  couple  of  bright  plates  of  the 
same  metal  had  been  added  to  the  household  goods,  but 
nought  else  had  changed,  save  that  the  young  fellow's  face 
was  brighter,  and  that  I  missed  his  brother  "  bacher  "  of 
the  preceding  year. 

"  Said  he  couldn't  stand  it,  looking  on  at  us  two,  so  he 
skinned  out  with  the  wife's  brother  as  a  pard  (partner). 
If  the  Indians  ain't  got  them,  they  have  got  through  to 
Wyoming  by  this  time,"  was  the  answer  I  received  to  my 
inquiry  after  the  Texan. 

And  how,  pray,  was  this  happy  event  brought  about  ? 
the  reader  will  ask.  By  a  broken  waggon-tire,  which 
stranded  a  small  party  of  emigrants  to  Oregon, — amongst 
whom  were  tho  present  wife  and  her  brother, — on  the  Plains 
far  from  human  habitation,  for,  as  must  be  mentioned,  a 
good  many  emigrants  from  the  Eastern  States,  especially 


Reminiscences  of  the  West.  395 

those  destined  for  Oregon  and  "Washington  Territory,  who 
cannot  afford  the  railway,  still  follow  the  example  of  the 
first  explorers,  and  spend  six  or  eight  months  en  route 
from  the  East  to  the  far  West,  their  household  goods 
taken  along  on  waggons,  preceded  in  patriarchal  fashion 
by  their  little  herd  of  cattle. 

My  Yorkshire  friend  and  his  wife — the  latter  married 
to  him,  as  I  was  duly  informed,  by  a  "judge" — seemed 
outrageously  happy,  and  I  remember  few  more  pleasantly- 
passed  evenings  than  the  one  I  spent  in  that  little  isolated 
habitation.  Things  were  looking  well  with  them.  A 
series  of  good  winters  had  allowed  his  herd  of  a  few 
hundred  head  of  Texas  cattle  to  increase  very  rapidly,  and 
in  five  or  six  years  the  young  couple  could  "  go  home  " 
with  a  fair  competency. 

Home  !  What  a  talismanic  word  it  is  I  Amid  the  most 
desperate  company,  amid  the  roughest  surroundings,  its 
purity  remains  undefiled.  It  is  an  open  sesame  to  the 
heart  of  the  worst  criminal,  and  its  hallowed  charm  is 
nowhere  more  felt  than  in  the  vast  far-off  West.  And 
though  its  heart-stirring  associations  are  apt  to  pale  for  a 
short  crazy  span  before  those  of  an  equally  cabalistic 
word— ^o/c/ — few,  very  few,  Western  hearts  are  dead  to 
its  stirring  memory,  and  none  are  so  hardened  as  not  to 
know  moments  when,  as  a  grizzly  old  veteran  of  the 
Rockies  once  quaintly  expressed  himself  ''home  is  gnawing 
at  their  bones.'* 


APPENDIX. 


THE  WIND  EIVEE  AND  SOSHON^  MOUNTAINS. 

The  Territory  of  Wyoming  is  a  square,  containing  100,000  square  miles, 
and  its  Eastern  half  forms  a  small  portion  of  the  Great  Western  Plaini 
(not  Prairies),  into  which  England  could  he  fitted  thirty  times,  and  which, 
bounded  on  the  East  by  the  Missouri,  slope  steadily  upwards,  till  finally,  at 
an  altitude  of  about  7000  feet,  they  merge  into  the  foothills  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  which  occupy  the  great  square's  Westerly  half.  All  this  table, 
land  is  a  treeless  barren,  portions  of  which  are  of  a  desert-like  character, 
and  in  earlier  days  gave  the  whole  strip  of  country  intervening  between 
the  Missouri  and  the  Rockies — a  belt  800  miles  wide — the  name  of  the 
Great  American  Desert.  As  so  often  remarked,  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
a  chain  of  Rocky  Mountains  ;  they  are  entirely  separate  ranges,  intersected 
by  high  table-land  passes,  often  100  miles  and  more  in  width ;  such  as  the 
well-known  South  Pass,  where,  at  an  altitude  of  8000  feet,  you  see  not  a 
tree  nor  a  mountain,  and,  for  all  you  know,  might  be  only  eighty  feet  over 
the  ocean — a  circumstance  similar  in  its  misnomer  to  the  "  pass  '*  at 
Sherman,  where  under  precisely  the  same  conditions  the  trans-Continental 
Union  Pacific  crosses  the  Rocky  Mountains  at  an  elevation  of  8271  feet. 

In  this  Western  half  of  Wyoming  there  are  four  great  distinct  chains, 
the  most  Easterly  being  the  Bighorn  Mountains,  running,  as  very  nearly 
all  the  ranges  of  the  Rockies  do,  from  North  to  South.  The  largest, 
longest,  highest,  and  most  important  is  the  Big  Wind  River  Range,  about  130 
miles  West  of  the  former.  It  is  one  of  the  principal  elevations  of  the  entire 
mountain  system  of  North  America  :  120  miles  long,  from  thirty  to  fifty 
miles  broad,  it  rises  to  altitudes  of  14,000  feet,  amongst  them  the  famous 


39^  Appendix, 

landmark,  Fremont's  Peak,  which  can  be  seen  from  places  250  miles  oS 
Its  Northern  end  joins  a  huge  triangle-shaped  expanse  of  mountain-land 
with  eminences  of  a  little  less  altitude :  it  is  the  Sierra  Soshone,  a  sea  of 
peaks,  raising  an  insuiinountable  barrier  to  human  approach  to  the  famous 
Yellowstone  Country  from  the  South-East.  I  need  hardly  mention  the  well- 
known  fact,  that  from  the  North,  from  the  West,  and  from  the  North-Easi 
the  Yellowstone  (or  National)  Park  is  very  easy  of  approach.  In  two  years 
probably  from  now  a  branch  of  the  Northern  Pacific  will  touch  that  famous 
district.  Where  the  Big  Wind  River  Chain  meets  the  Sierra  at  a  sharp 
angle,  there  are  two  passes — "  Togwotee  "  and  "  Two  Ocean,"  both  about 
10,000  feet.  The  former  is  very  little  known,  for  its  approaches  are  through 
excessively  dense  forests.  All  this  country  is  over  9000  feet,  and  the  peaks 
rise  to  12,000  feet. 

The  Sierra  Soshone,  of  which  I  will  speak  first,  is  to-day,  without 
exception,  the  least  known  of  the  numerous  mountain  chains  on  the  Con. 
tinent.  It  is  more  a  sea  of  mountains  than  a  chain,  and,  speaking  quite 
literally,  there  are  portions  of  it  where  it  can  be  said  with  moral  cei-taiuty 
no  white  or  red  man  has  ever  set  foot.  The  first  Government  exploration 
party  who  touched  the  Sierra  Sohone  was  that  of  Captain  Jones,  who  in 
1873  achieved  the  feat  of  crossing  the  Sierra  at  both  its  extremities. 
Captain  Raynolds,  several  years  before,  at  the  head  of  another  exploration 
party,  tried  to  force  a  passage  ;  but,  after  losing  himself  in  the  dense 
forest  at  the  foot  of  the  range  (notwithstanding  his  Indian  guides),  gave 
up  the  plan  of  ever  reaching  the  Yellowstone  country  from  the  South  across 
the  Sierra  Soshone.  Bridger,  the  most  famous  scout  of  his  day,  who  led 
the  party,  made  the  characteristic  remark  that  nobody  could  get  across 
that  mountain  barrier  unless  he  had  wings,  "  for,**  as  he  said,  *'  a  bird 
cannot  fly  over  it  without  taking  a  supply  of  grub  along."  Captain  Jones 
proved  that  it  was  possible,  though  at  the  Westerly  extremity,  and  not  at  the 
centre  where  we  forced  a  passage.  It  was,  however,  but  partial  in  so  far  that 
we  proceeded  only  to  the  top  of  the  range,  and  did  not  descend  the  Northern 
slopes,  where  the  great  Yellowstone  wonderland  lay  spread  at  our  feet,  and 
this  not  because  we  should  have  found  it  impossible,  but  because  I  had  no 
desire  to  turn  my  back  on  the  promised  scenic  beauties  of  the  famous  Wind 
River  Chain,  which  at  that  period  I  had  yet  to  visit. 

Captain  Jones,  in  his  exhaustive  and  interesting  report  on  his  expedition 
of  1873,  pronounces  the  Sierra  Soshond  to  be  the  most  remarkable  moun- 
tain system  in  the  entire  Rocky  Mountains ;  and  from  what  I  saw  of  it,  I 
am  decidedly  of  the  same  opinion.  The  original  range,  of  which,  as  he  says, 
we  find  many  indications,  lies  buried  beneath  an  outpouring  of  lava  rock, 
forming  a  crust  which  it  is  safe  to  estimate  at  being  from  4000  to  5000 
feet  in  depth.    Numerous  deep  canyons,  such  as  those  of  the  Stinking- 


Appendix.  399 

water  River,  show  only  this  volcanic  material  down  to  an  elevatic  n  of  6000 
feet  in  depth.  Except  the  bizarre  Washakie  Needle,  a  prominent  landmark,  and 
the  only  mountain  in  the  vast  ocean  of  pinnacles  that  has  received 
a  name,  and  another  nameless  one,  which  I  discovered  North- West  of  it, 
which  are  of  granite,  the  other  hundreds— nay,  thousands  of  peaks  and 
eminences — are  of  volcanic  origin.  We  penetrated  into  this  range  from  two 
sides — from  the  South  and  from  the  East,  and  more  weird  mountain  scenery 
than  was  disclosed  to  me  d»y  after  day  cannot  be  imagined.  Bugged,  as 
perhaps  no  other  upheaval  in  the  world,  the  eye  wanders  in  amazement 
from  the  turreted  and  castellated  upper  surface,  to  the  deep  canyons,  lined 
with  great  caverns,  pillars,  towers,  and  steeples,  often  hundreds  of  feet  in 
height.  Most  of  the  narrow  fissure-like  gorges  have  been  produced  by 
water-ero  ion  through  consecutive  strata  of  various  lava  conglomerates,  to 
a  depth  of  1500  and  2000  feet.     Captain  Jones  says ; — 

**  Often  it  seems  quite  incredible  that  these  chimney -like  columns  can 
remain  upright.  In  the  canyon  of  the  North  fork  of  Stinking-water 
River  there  is  a  vertical  block  of  volcanic  material  fifty  feet  in  length,  only 
two  feet  in  breadth,  and  j500  feet  in  sheer  height,  standing  alone,  at  a 
distance  of  three  or  four  feet  from  the  North  wall  of  the  canyon.** 

We  discovered  a  comparatively  easy  pass  to  the  highest  ground  of  this 
chain  by  following  the  East  fork  of  Del  Nord  Creek,  one  of  the  first 
tributary  creeks  of  the  South  fork  of  the  West  fork  of  Big  Wind  River. 
While  exploring  the  Eastern  extremities  of  the  Sierra,  the  human  remains 
were  found  of  one  of  the  party  of  nine  prospectors  who,  in  the  year  1878, 
were  massacred  by  the  Bannocks,  and  who,  it  would  appear,  had  succeeded 
in  traversing  the  Sierra  from  the  head  of  Big  Wind  River  to  the  head  of 
Owl  Creek,  a  feat  which  it  can  be  safely  assumed  no  one  before  them  had 
accomplished.  Captain  Reynolds,  in  his  report  to  the  War  Departmentt 
speaks  of  the  Sierra  in  the  following  terms :  "  Directly  across  our  route  lies 
a  basaltic  ridge,  rising  no  less  than  5000  feet  over  us,  its  walls  apparently 
vertical,  with  no  visible  pass  or  even  canyon  *'  (this  latter  is  only  true  for  a 
small  portion),  and  he  proceeds  to  describe  the  several  attempts  made  by 
his  expedition  to  traverse  them.  On  referring  to  my  diary,  I  find  we  spent 
over  forty  days  on  the  Sieira,  including  the  Owl  Creek  country,  i.e.  from 
August  10th  to  August  24th,  and  from  October  2l8t  up  to  nearly  the  end  of 
November. 

Between  the  Sierra  and  the  Big  Wind  River  flows  the  river  of  the  latter 
name,  formed  by  a  multitude  of  "  forks  *'  or  headwaters. 

The  Wind  River  is  for  the  first  140  miles  of  its  course,  till  it  makes  that 
wonderful  bend  to  the  North,  a  very  swift  mountain  torrent,  fordable  only 
daring  autumn.  There  is  a  good  Indian  trail  along  it,  and  another,  less  plaia 
»ne,  on  the  first  '*  bench  **  of  its  right  bank.     By  taking  the  lower  and 


400  Appendix, 

easier  oae  the  river  has  to  be  crossed  repeatedly ;  indeed  I  remember  in 
one  day's  ride  to  Lave  swum  it  no  fewer  than  five  times.  On  one  of  thesi 
occasions  Henry  very  nearly  lost  his  life  by  being  swept  from  his  saddle  and 
getting  entangled  in  the  stirrup. 

The  Big  Wind  River  Mountains,  of  which  Richardson  in  his  *'  Wonders 
of  the  Yellowstone*'  (1874), speaks  as  a  snow-clad  mountain  barrier,  which 
no  white  man  has  crossed,  are  a  very  famous  chain,  though  not  quite  as 
uncrossed  as  this  author  would  have  it  appear,  for  its  vast  slopes  have  been 
for  years  the  favourite  haunts  of  several  of  the  more  adventurous  trappers 
who  have  joined  Indian  tribes.  I  doubt,  however,  if  the  top  of  this  vast 
backbone  of  North  America  has  ever  been  explored  by  white  men  so 
thoroughly  as  we  had  occasion  to  do.  According  to  my  diary  we  wer« 
camped  on  the  "  Divide,"  i.e.  watershed,  the  highest  points  of  the  chain 
— nowhere  under  9500  or  10,000  feet — from  August  27th  to  September  4th, 
and  from  September  15th  to  October  10th,  altogether  thirty-three  days,  the 
interval  being  taken  up  by  an  expedition  to  the  Teton  Basin,  on  the  Pacific 
slopes  of  the  chain. 

Lord  Dunraven,  in  his  most  fascinating  work  *'  The  Great  Divide,"  givei 
that  name  to  regions  immediately  to  the  North  of  it.  It  is,  however,  equally 
merited  by  the  Big  Wind  River  Range.  Indeed,  considering  that  the  great 
Colorado  heads  on  the  Western  slopes  of  that  range,  within  a  walk  of  the 
spot  where  the  head  tributaries  of  the  Columbia  and  Yellowstone 
(Mississipi)  rise,  I  think  even  a  better  claim  to  that  title  can  be  advanced 
by  the  district  under  consideration.  Lord  Dunraven  (writing  in  1876) 
speaks  of  it  as  not  being  well  known  to  him,  and  says  it  "  can  be  visited  only 
at  considerable  risk,  owing  to  the  restless  hostility  of  the  Indians  •"  and 
again,  when  alluding  to  the  possibility  of  reaching  the  Yellowstone  Basin 
by  a  third  route,  traversing  the  Soshone  reservation  at  Camp  Brown  (now 
called  Fort  Washakie),  the  identical  route  we  followed,  he  calls  it  very 
unsafe,  and  hence  "  was  compelled  to  abandon  all  idea  of  penetrating  to 
Geyserland  (Yellowstone)  from  the  East  (or  rather.  South- East)  through 
mountain  passes  hitherto  untrodden  by  white  man's  foot." 

Changes  have  taken  place  even  since  those  recent  days,  and  the  Bannock 
War  of  1878  drove  one  of  the  restless  Indian  tribes  into  Agency  life,  and 
cleared  for  the  moment  those  districts  of  immediate  danger  from  Indians. 
There  are  thive  tribes  to  whose  hunting-grounds  the  districts  in  question 
appertain,  though  none  of  these  tribes  penetrate  (except  while  travelling) 
to  the  upper  altitudes  of  the  ranges.  They  are  the  Soshones,  a  very 
peaceable  tribe,  held  in  good  order  by  their  famous  old  chief,  Washakie, 
who  have  not  killed  a  white  man  for  close  upon  twenty  years  ;  the 
"  Crows,"  or  Mountain  Crow  tribe,  a  very  large  and  hitherto  on  the  whole 
peaceable  community ;  and  the  Arrappahoes,  a  decidedly  dangerous  tribe^ 


Appendix.  401 


one  of  the  few  remaining  ones  who  are  ever  ready  to  take  to  the  war-path. 
Until  they  receive  a  final  thrashing  from  the  United  States  troops  th« 
country  cannot  be  pronounced  perfectly  Indian  safe,  for  their  outbreaks  are 
nnpreceded  bj  any  warnings,  and  the  "  strike  "  is  ominously  sudden.  We 
saw  no'hing  of  Indians  or  white  men  while  on  the  Wind  River  Mountains 
or  in  the  Teton  Basin. 

The  Map  I  append  comprises  the  most  recent  researches  of  the  United 
States  Government  surveys,  although  considerable  portions  of  the  country 
have  not  yet  been  explored.  My  notes  enabled  me  to  add  some  details, 
especially  between  Fremont's  Peak  and  Togwotee  Pass. 

As  I  correct  these  proofs  I  receive  news  that  very  probably  the  Mountain 
Crow  Indians,  joined  by  the  Arrappahoes  will  very  shortly  make  a  "strike/' 
i.e.  enter  the  war-path  against  the  whites.  As  both  are  powerful  tribes, 
persons  intending  to  visit  the  Wind  River  or  Soshon^  country  this  season 
had  better  exercise  some  judgment,  and  inform  themselves  of  the  danger 
by  inquiries  at  headquarters. 


THE  SKUNK. 

Thb  animals  indigenous  to  the  Western  Plains  of  North  America  have, 
np  to  very  recent  times,  been  supposed  to  enjoy  immunity  from  rabies 
The  skunk  was  the  first  concerning  whom  an  exception  had  to  be  noted. 

Baird  gives  eight  species  of  Skunk  as  inhabiting  North  America.  M. 
mesoleuca,  Whitebackod  S.  (Mexico) ;  M.  varius,  Longtailed  S.  (Texas);  M. 
occidentalism  California  S.  j  M  mephitica,  Common  S.  (Western  Plains) ;  M. 
bicolor,  Striped  S.  (Southern  Texas) ;  M.  mesomelas,  Blackbacked  S., 
Louisiana  (?)  ;  M.  leuconata  (Mexico)  ;  M.  macroura  (Mexico);  M.  vittata 
(Mexico) — th«;  last  three  named  species  being  of  doubtful  character. 

The  skunk's  reputation  was  never  of  the  fairest.  The  old  Canadian 
Toyageurs  called  it  Enfant  du  rfiaife— child  of  the  Devil ;  and  the  discovery 
made  within  the  last  ten  years  that  its  bite  at  certain  periods  produces 
hydrophobia,  has  invested  it  with  further  horror,  especially  as  researches 
have  as  yet  not  been  able  to  explain  or  to  account  for  the  epidemic  ap- 
pearance of  rabies  in  skunks. 

Science,  it  is  well  known,  has  demonstrated  that  rabies  is  the  parent 
disease  of  hydrophobia ;  that  the  latter  attacks  only  the  human  species, 
while  rabies,  quite  distinct  from  it,  victimises  animals.  It  is,  therefore, 
erroneous  to  apply  the  term  hydrophobia  to  a  rabid  dog.  Sir  Thomas 
Watson,  an  authority  on  the  subject,  further  maintains  that,  while  in  th« 
•aniue  race  rabies  can  propagate  rabies,  hydrophobia  does  not  ever  product 

D  d 


402  Appendix, 

itself.  There  would  be  no  hydrophobia  were  there  no  rabies ;  there  can  b« 
no  rabies  unless  it  be  communicated  by  a  rabid  animal. 

It  has  always  been  remarked  that  rabies  canina  breaks  out  at  various 
epochs  with  exceptional  violence,  and  then  remains  dormant  for  a  longer 
or  shorter  period.  In  certain  countries  it  is  tc  the  present  day  perfectly 
unknown.  Thus  in  Australia  and  New  Zealand  no  case  of  rabies  is  reported 
to  have  occurred  (up  to  the  year  1872).  Greenland  and  Kamchatka  are 
also  entirely  free  from  it,  while  to  other  regions  this  fell  disease  evinces  a 
special  predilection,  Algeria  being,  perhaps,  if  not  the  most,  at  least  one  of 
the  most,  dangerous  countries.  To  the  Arabs,  as  several  eminent  authorities 
have  shown,  it  was  known  long  before  the  French  Conquest.  One  authority. 
Dr.  Boucher,  goes,  indeed,  so  far  as  to  maintain  that  rabies  was  not 
imported,  but  indigenous  in  Algeria. 

The  geographical  distribution  of  rabies  affords  mnch  interesting  study. 
Careful  investigation  leaves  no  doubt  that  the  facilities  for  increased  com- 
munication with  different  and  hitherto  little  known  quarters  of  the  globe 
have  of  late  years  much  extended  its  area,  and,  by  introducing  it  into  coun- 
tries where,  until  recently,  it  had  not  been  known,  has  tended  to  generalize 
the  malady.  The  case  in  question  is  a  striking  proof  of  this.  Up  to  the 
year  1871  the  Western  Plains  had  been  singularly  free  from  all  symptoms 
of  rahics,  and  in  all  the  accounts  of  early  Plains  travel  and  the  settling  up 
of  Western  Territories  we  find  up  to  that  year  not  a  single  instance  men- 
tioned of  mad  dogs  or  wolves.  It  is  true  Western  civilization  is  but  of 
yesterday's  creation,  but  yet  portions  of  the  country  have  been  known  to 
explorers  and  travellers  for  more  than  half  a  century,  and  the  great  number 
of  dogs  to  be  found  round  most  camps  of  the  wild  tribes  of  Indians  would 
have  opened  many  channels  for  a  rapid  extension  of  rabies  all  over  the 
Plains.  Medical  history  shows  that,  while  rabies  has  frequently  followed 
the  introduction  of  European  dogs  into  new  regions,  it  has  also  appeared  in 
an  ppiz'Otic  form  in  countries  where  it  had  been  previously  unknown,  the 
most  remarkable  instance  being,  perhnps,  one  which  occurred  in  Peru  in 
1803,  the  appearance  of  which  could  not  be  traced  to  any  foreign  source. 

From  the  various  authentic  sources  now  at  the  disposal  of  the  curious,  it 
has  become  patent  that  skunks  are  as  liable  toepidemic  rabies  as  are  wolves, 
foxes,  and  dogs ;  but  unlike  the  latter,  which  for  a  long  time  have  been 
known  to  be  subject  to  rabies,  the  first  appearanoe  of  the  disease  among 
skunks  in  the  Eastern  States  of  America  is  also  of  very  recent  origin. 

Of  the  two  or  three  American  writers  who  have  made  a  study  of  this  new 
disease,  termed  rabies  mephitica,  the  two  most  prominent  occupy  very 
antagonistic  platforms.  One  lends  the  whole  weight  of  his  observations 
to  the  opinion  that  rabies  among  skunks  is  an  entirely  new  disease,  and 
hence  that  the  malady  caused  by  inoculation  of  its  venom  is  not  the 


Appendix,  403 

hydrophobia  as  results  from  the  hite  of  a  mad  dog.  The  other  argues  that 
the  rabies  mepMtica  is  identical  with  rabies  canina,  or,  in  other  words, 
that  no  such  disease  as  rabies  mephitica  exists,  and  that  the  hydrophobia 
effects  of  the  bite  of  rabid  skunks  are  precisely  the  same  as  those  of  the 
bite  of  a  mad  dog.  A  third  theory  advanced  by  certain  writers  (Colonel 
Dodge,  in  his  work  *'  On  the  Plains,"  is  one  who  makes  statements  to  thi§ 
effect)  is  that  hydrophobia  is  the  natural  result  to  man  of  skunk  bites, 
meaning  that  bites  inflicted  by  that  animal,  whether  diseased  or  healthy, 
result  in  hydrophobia.  This,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  is  a  mistaken  view, 
as  I  know  personally  of  a  good  many  cases  of  skunk  bites  that  have  had 
no  bad  effects  whatever,  my  own  case  being  one  of  dozens  that  are  perfectly 
authentic. 

In  the  summer  (August)  of  1871  the  first  authentic  instance  of  hydro- 
phobia occurred  West  of  the  Missouri.  It  was  the  result  of  a  bite  from  a 
skunk,  an  injury  which  hitherto  had  been  considered  a  comparatively  harm- 
less wound,  and  never  known  to  result  in  any  way  seriously  to  the  person 
bitten.  It  took  place  in  Colorado,  and  the  sufferer,  a  buffalo-hunter  named 
Ashby,  treated  the  injury  in  the  then  usual  way,  of  taking  internally  large 
doses  of  the  only  handy  medicine,  i.e.  whiskey — a  powerful  antidote  for 
rattlesnake  bites.  The  arm,  however,  swelled  rapidly,  and  a  feeling  of 
oppression  and  uneasiness  overwhelmed  him,  so  that  he  finally  went  to  seek 
the  assistance  of  the  nearest  medical  practitioner,  Dr.  0.  Clark,  from  whose 
own  mouth  I  have  these  details.  Ashby  had  been  bitten  on  the  arm  while 
trailing  a  wounded  deer,  and  the  first  medical  treatment  he  received  was 
seven  days  after  the  infliction  of  the  wound.  He  rapidly  grew  worse,  and 
notwithstanding  large  doses  of  morphine,  his  final  paroxysms,  which  took 
place  on  the  sixth  day,  introducing  death,  were  terrible  to  behold.  Dr. 
Clark  had  never  seen  a  case  of  hydrophobia  before,  and,  while  the  symptoms 
left  no  room  to  harbour  doubt  that  the  man  was  suffering  from  it,  the  sight 
of  the  death  agonies  made  upon  him  the  most  lasting  impression.  Dr.  Clark 
soon  afterwards  returned  to  his  Eastern  home,  and  has  never  since  had 
occasion  to  treat  bites  of  the  skunk  or  any  other  animal  in  trans-Missourian 
countries.  This  occurred,  I  believe,  in  August,  and  I  particularly  mention 
Dr.  Clark's  testimony,  for,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  it  was  the  first  case  West 
of  the  Missouri.  In  September  and  October,  1871,  several  fatal  cases  were 
reported,  and  from  that  time  up  to  the  summer  of  1873  hydrophobia 
caused  by  skunk  bites  was  a  frequent  occurrence  on  the  Plains  and  foothills 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  It  has  since  never  entirely  died  out,  and  every 
year  some  few  cases  of  fatal  results  from  skunk  bites  are  reported.  But 
it  is  very  evident  that  it  is  no  longer  of  epidemic  frequency. 

I  will  here  give  some  of  the  evidence  collected  by  the  two  writers  to 
whom  reference  has  already  been  made.    The  first  to  write  on  the  subject 

Dd  2 


^04  Appendix. 

iras  the  Rev.  Horace  Hovey,  who  is  also  the  theorist  claiming  to  havt 
discovered  in  r ablest  mejphitica  a  new  disease.  He  remarks,  too,  that 
possibly  there  may  be  a  causative  connexion  between  the  inactivity  of  the 
anal  glands,  squirting  the  nauseous  fluid,  and  the  generation  of  malignant 
virus  in  the  glands  of  the  mouth — an  opinion  which  his  adversary  claims 
to  be  conclusively  proven  by  certain  evidence  he  brings  forward.  The 
Rev.  H.  Hovey  lived  in  Kansas  city,  at  that  time  the  great  centre  of  the 
buffalo  hunting  trade,  occupying  thousands  of  men.  Within  a  compara- 
tively short  time  from  the  fall  (autumn)  of  1871,  in  the  summer  of  the 
following  year,  he  obtained  particulars  of  forty-one  cases  of  rabies,  all 
proving  fatal  except  one.  At  that  time,  it  must  be  remembered,  most  of 
the  persons  bitten  were  entirely  ignorant  of  the  dangerous  epidemic,  and 
of  the  fatal  results ;  and,  as  bites  from  skunks  had  been,  since  the  first 
settling  up  of  the  country,  of  not  infrequent  occurrence,  there  was  therefore 
in  the  majority  of  cases,  none  of  the  nervous  forebodings  to  which  the 
appearance  of  hydrophobia  in  certain  cases  gives  rise.  The  men  bitten 
were  all  robust,  hale  men,  who  attached  but  little  importance  to  the  scratch 
of  an  animal  the  size  of  a  large  cat.  In  most  of  the  cases  Mr.  Hovey 
enumerates  (he  gives  the  names  of  the  men,  date,  and  place  with  all 
accuracy)  the  period  of  incubation  varied  between  ten  days  and  five  months; 
the  majority,  however,  ended  with  death  within  the  first  five-and-twenty 
days,  which  in  all  cases  took  place  amid  the  most  terrible  convulsions.  This 
writer  maintains  that  the  final  frightful  struggles  of  nature  to  eliminate  the 
poison  are  more  prolonged  in  rabies  canina  than  in  rabies  nuiphitica.  He 
remarks,  too,  that  no  constitutional  changes  take  place  in  the  latter,  such  as 
are  well  known  to  occur  in  the  former;  and  equally  does  the  absence  of 
certain  nervous  symptoms  constitute  a  conspicuous  difference  between  the 
two  species  of  rabies.  In  every  case,  where  there  was  time,  the  wound 
healed  easily  and  permanently,  and  in  several  instances  not  even  a  scar  was 
visible ;  and  in  no  case  that  came  under  his  notice  was  there  recrudescence  of 
the  wound,  as  generally  follow  the  bite  of  other  rabid  animals.  Indeed, 
there  were  so  few  premonitions  of  any  kind  that,  in  most  instances,  the 
attending  physicians  themselves  supposed  the  indisposition  to  be  simple 
and  trivLil,  until  the  sudden  appearance  of  convulsions  taught  them 
differently. 

Dr.  Janeway,  at  one  time  military  sui^eon  at  Port  Hays,  is  the  second 
authority  to  which  I  have  made  reference.  In  his  introduction  to  a  very 
painstaking  paper,  he  tells  u.i  that  he  has  personally  witnessed  fifteen  fatal 
cases  of  hydrophobia,  six  caused  by  the  bite  of  skunks,  three  by  wolves, 
and  two  by  hogs ;  and  hence  his  testimony  is  of  especial  value.  In  hia 
opinion,  the  malady  produced  by  the  virus  of  the  skunk  is  simply  hydro- 
phobia, and  the  disease  itself  is  identical  with  rabies  canina ;  and  likewiaa 


Appendix.  405 

he  fiuls  to  agree  with  Mr.  Hovey,  that  mephitic  inoculation  is  certain 
death.  He  proceeds  to  mention  in  detail  numerous  fatal  cases  of  skunk 
bites  treated  by  him,  in  which  the  symptoms  were  precisely  similar  to 
those  of  hydrophobia  caused  by  the  bite  of  dogs,  in  which  the  period  of 
incubation  varied  between  thirteen  and  twenty -four  days.  He  attributes 
the  higher  percentage  of  deaths  resulting  from  skunk  bites  to  the  circum- 
stance that  the  skunk  is  of  nocturnal  habits,  and  attacks  at  night,  and 
generally  bites  exposed  parts  of  the  sleeper's  body,  the  alee  of  the  nose,  the 
lobe  of  the  ear,  the  thumb,  or  one  of  the  fingers.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
clothing,  in  very  many  cases,  prevents  inoculation  by  removing  from  the 
teeth  the  poisonous  saliva  j  and  it  is  interesting  to  note  that  Dr.  Janeway*8 
personal  experience  proves  this  circumstance  very  conclusively.  At  a 
frontier  post  (Fort  Lamed,  in  Kansas)  a  mad  wolf  suddenly  sprang  upon 
the  officer  of  the  day  while  he  was  making  his  rounds,  and  bit  him  on  the 
arm  through  his  clothing.  Passing  on,  he  bit  a  sentinel  on  post  in  the 
wrist,  between  the  sleeve  of  his  coat  and  his  glove,  and  then  sprang  upon  a 
woman  who  was  nursing  a  child  near  by,  and  bit  her  on  the  shoulder 
through  a  thick  woollen  shawl.  All  the  cases  were  treated  the  same.  The 
officer  and  the  woman  escaped,  but  the  soldier  died  of  hydrophobia.  A 
European  authority,  M.  Bouley,  General  Inspector  of  Veterinary  Schooli 
in  France,  has  had  similar  experience  in  the  matter  of  bites  of  rabid  dogs. 
According  to  him,  the  documents  of  investigation  furnish  ample  infor- 
mation respecting  the  innocnousness  of  bites,  according  to  the  different 
parts  of  the  body  upon  which  they  were  inflicted.  Out  of  73  cases  in  which 
the  wounds  were  inflicted  upon  the  hands,  46,  and  of  32  cases  when  the 
face  was  bitten,  29  resulted  fatally ;  while  out  of  52  cases  when  the  bite 
was  inflicted  on  either  the  arm  or  lower  limbs  covered  by  clothing,  only  15 
ended  with  death.  Dr.  Janeway  says,  that  in  all  the  fatal  cases  of  skunk 
bite  observed  by  him,  the  stages  of  the  disease  were  more  or  less  marked 
by  symptoms  of  acute  melancholy.  An  indefinite  feeling  of  dread,  and  a 
general  malaise  were  chiefly  prominent,  and,  as  he  specially  remarks  (he 
is  speaking  of  the  years  1871-73,  when  the  epidemic  raged),  to  most  of 
the  unfortunates  the  fearful  result  of  the  trivial  wound  they  had  received 
was  unknown,  and  they  were  unaware  of  their  perilous  condition. 

The  percentage  of  fatal  results  of  bites  from  rabid  skunks  is  a  very  high 
one — much  higher,  it  would  appear,  than  from  all  other  animals.  Sir 
Thomas  Watson  states  that  in  this  country  the  number  of  deaths  from 
hydropbobia  varies  between  1  in  21  or  25.  The  saliva  of  mad  wolves  is 
more  dangerous  than  that  of  dogs.  Thus  at  Troyes,  in  1774,  of  20  persons 
bitten  by  a  rabid  wolf  9  died ;  while  in  another  instance  10  deaths  out  of 
17,  and  in  a  third  case  14  deaths  out  of  23  persons  bitten  by  a  wolf  in  « 
•imilar  condition,  leave  no  doubt  on  this  score. 


406  Appejidix, 

In  the  United  States,  racoons  also,  at  rare  intervals  exhibit  rabies,  and 
the  well-known  instance  of  the  terrible  death  of  the  grandfather  of  the 
present  Duke  of  Richmond,  who,  while  travelling  in  Canada,  was  bitten  by 
•  rabid  fox,  gives  colour  to  Mr.  Youatt's  opinion  that  badgers  are  also 
subject  to  rabies.  Regarding  the  possible  recovery  from  the  bite  of  a  rabid 
skunk,  all  authorities  agree  that  the  chances  are  small.  Dr.  Jancway, 
indeed,  reports  but  one,  to  which  I  shall  presently  allude. 

It  is  now  a  well-authenticated  fact  tbat  rabid  skunks  are  entirely  free 
from  the  odour  so  characteristic  of  these  animals,  which  could  not  occur  if 
the  secretion  was  not  exhausted.  To  refer  to  my  own  case,  this  circum- 
stance was  fortunately  not  known  to  me  at  the  time  I  was  bitten,  for  it 
would  have  greatly  added  to  the  unpleasant  suspense  of  not  knowing 
whether  the  animal  was  rabid  or  not ;  for  it  so  happened  that  the  skunk, 
after  biting  my  finger  while  I  was  lying  aslepp  on  the  ground  (in  the 
foothills  of  the  Rocky  Mountains)  scampered  off  without  leaving  any  of 
his  scent. 

According  to  Dr.  Janeway,  and  the  testimony  of  others  I  questioned  on 
this  matter  in  the  course  of  my  several  trips  on  the  Plains  and  in  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  intense  thirst  is  one  of  the  most  prominent  signs  of 
hydrophobia  from  skunk  bites;  the  sound  of  splashing  water,  or  the  sight 
of  it,  invariably  bringing  on  the  terrible  convulsions  peculiar  to  this  disease. 
1  heard,  however,  of  several  cases  where  the  patient  could  drink  water 
through  a  straw  from  a  covered  vessel.  Dr.  Janeway  also  remarks  that 
morphia  and  hydrate  of  choral  are  frequently,  whether  applied  by  hypo- 
dermic injection  or  externally,  perfectly  effectless. 

Among  the  numerous  remedies  employed  in  the  treatment  of  bites  of 
skunks  supposed  to  have  been  rabid,  those  recommended  by  Dr.  Janeway 
appear  to  me  to  be  the  most  rational — namely,  free  use  of  nitrate  of  silver. 
After  repeatedly  removing  the  eschar  of  the  wound,  he  cauterized  it  so  as 
to  promote  suppuration.  He  also  gives  a  most  interesting  account  of  a 
cure,  the  only  one  he  claims  to  have  performed,  effected  by  him  with  very 
copious  doses  of  strychnia,  beginning  with  one-sixteenth  of  a  grain  every 
three  hours,  gradually  increased  to  the  enormous  dose  of  half  a  grain  of 
that  deadly  poison,  As  the  man  did  not  die  of  the  drug,  which  he  had 
taken  in  quantities  sufficient  to  kill  ten  men,  it  shows  either  that  he  was 
inoculated  and  that  the  strychnia  acted  as  a  tonic  to  the  nervous  system, 
thus  enabling  it  to  resist  the  invasion  of  the  disease ;  or  that  he  was  not 
inoculated  by  the  virus  when  bitten,  but  exhibited  a  wonderful  tolerance 
for  the  drug.  Dr.  Janeway  claims  that  the  former  of  the  two  was  the  case, 
and  argues  (I  think  with  perfect  justification)  that,  as  a  companion  of  his 
patient,  who  was  bitten  by  the  same  skunk  and  at  the  same  time,  died  of 
hydrophobia  within  ten  days,  his  remedy  very  probably  saved  the  roan's  Ufa 


Appendix,  407 


If  we  let  ourselves  be  tempted  to  examine  a  nauseous  matter — the  fluid 
ejected  by  the  healthy  skunk,  and  with  which  rabies,  as  we  have  heard, 
itands  in  intimate  causative  relationship — its  physiological  r6le  is  obvious. 

While  it  is,  of  course,  no  longer  necessary  to  refute  the  vulgar  notion 
once  prevalent,  that  the  secretion  was  that  of  the  kidneys  whisked  about  by 
the  bushy  tail,  and  other  unfounded  tales  not  less  ridiculous,  it  is  not  so 
generally  known  that  the  sole  use  of  the  muscular  covering  enveloping  the 
anal  glands,  and  capable  of  co;r, pressing  this  reservoir,  is  to  eject  the  liquid. 
The  teatlike  projections  have,  according  to  Dr.  Parker,  one  large  orifice  for 
%  distant  jet  of  the  substance,  and  also  a  strainer  with  numerous  holes  for  a 
near  but  diffusive  jetting  of  the  matter. 

As  a  curiosity  may  be  mentioned  the  case  cited  by  Audubon,  according 
to  whom  Professor  Joes,  of  Newhaven,  gave  three  drops  a  day  of  the  fluid 
to  an  asthmatic  patient.  The  invalid  was  greatly  benefited,  but  he  soon 
was  afflicted  by  the  mephitic  secretion  peculiar  to  the  skunk,  and  became  so 
highly  offensive,  both  to  himself  and  those  near  him,  that  the  cure  had  to 
be  stopped. 

Travellers  have  spread  the  belief  that  the  instantaneous  death  of  the  animal 
always  prevents  an  escapeof  the  well-known  effluvium.  This  I  can  by  no  means 
share,  and  as  I  find  my  experience  in  this  respect  is  shared  by  Dr.  Couesi 
who  some  years  ago  published  a  most  exhaustive  treatise  on  North  American 
Mustelidae,  I  am  emboldened  to  mention  it.  I  know  of  no  death  quick 
enough  to  frustrate  the  ejection.  I  have  very  frequently  blown  skunks'  heads 
off,  approaching  the  muzzle  of  my  six-shooter  or  express  rifle  to  within  two 
or  three  inches  of  their  heads — indeed,  one  or  twice  they  have  had  the 
steel  between  their  teeth  when  I  pulled,  and  in  not  a  single  instance  has 
the  victim  failed  to  discharge  his  glands,  though  very  probably  it  was 
caused  by  a  spasmodic  contraction  of  the  muscles.  Some  authorities 
maintain  that  while  in  daytime  the  discharge  is  invisible,  a  certain 
phosphorescence  renders  the  fluid  luminous  by  night.  I  never  noticed 
this,  though  perhaps  the  exceedingly  dry  air  of  the  Rocky  Mountains 
foothills,  to  which  my  acquaintance  with  the  skunk  is  confined,  is  a  locality 
not  as  favourable  for  the  development  of  the  phosphorescent  qualities  as 
the  more  humid  atmosphere  of  Eastern  states. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that,  similar  to  rabies  canina^  the  malady  to 
which  the  skunk  is  subject  does  not  appear  by  any  means  only  in  hot 
weather.  Thus,  September,  October,  1871  j  March,  April,  May,  September, 
October,  1872,  and  the  Spring  months  of  1873  furnish  the  larger  pro- 
portion of  cases  both  of  rabies  and  hydrophobia. 

The  spring,  summer,  and  aatumn  of  1872  witnessed  the  height  of  the 
epidemic  out  West.  Not  only  were  there  many  rabid  skunks,  but  wolves, 
foxes,  and  wild  cats  seemed  similarly  afi'ected,  and  several  cases  of  hydro< 


4o8  Appendix. 

phobia  in  consequence  of  bites  of  the  last-mentioned  animals  were  reported 
to  me  when  travelling  through  the  regions  where  the  ravages  of  rabies  bad 
been  most  virulent. 

To  epitomize  for  practical  purposes  the  whole  subject  of  skunk-bites,  I 
would  lay  stress  on  the  following  points:  If  you  are  bitten,  endeavour  to 
ascertain  whether  the  skunk  is  rabid,  which,  if  you  have  the  chance,  can  be 
best  done  by  trying  if  his  anal-glands  have  ceased  to  perform  their  duty.  In 
this  case — a  very  remote  one — so  long  as  no  new  epidemic  occurs,  I  would 
use  a  knife  very  freely  in  cutting  out  as  soon  as  possible  the  flesh  or 
muscles  surrounding  the  surface  of  the  bite,  or,  if  it  is  a  deep  bite,  make  a 
cone-shaped  incision.  This,  however,  I  would  only  do  if  no  clothes  or 
covering  protected  the  part  bitten  j  for  with  covering  the  chances  of 
inoculation  are  very  remote  indeed.  As  in  all  similar  cases,  the  quicker 
the  knife  or  the  cautery  is  applied,  the  better  the  chance  of  effectual 
preventative. 


BEDS. 

Thb  most  practical  bed  for  a  tour  like  mine,  where  many  exigencies  have 
to  be  taken  into  consideration,  consists  of  the  following  articles  : — first,  and 
most  important  of  all,  is  the  waggon-sbeet  cover.  This,  as  its  name  implies, 
is  a  large  piece  of  stout  canvas  (such  as  is  used  for  tents  is  the  best),  from 
sixteen  to  eighteen  feet  in  length,  and  from  eight  to  ten  feet  wide,  large 
enough  to  cover  the  big  freight  waggons,  and  hence  to  be  procured  at  every 
outfitting  place.  This  is  folded  lengthwise,  and  when  the  bed  is  to  bj  made, 
spread  out  on  the  ground.  On  one  half  of  this  long  canvas  strip  are  laid 
bufi'nlo  robes  or  blankets  (one  robe  and  two  pair  of  best  California  blankets 
su£Sce  for  autumn  weather),  those  on  which  you  lie,  as  well  as  those  with 
which  you  cover  yourself.  Before  getting  into  bed,  draw  the  other  half  of 
the  sheet  over  your  bed.  Being  eight  or  nine  feet  long,  it  will  not  only 
cover  all  your  bed,  but  lap  over  your  head.  This  is  an  important  point,  for 
otherwise  the  rain  or  snow  would  beat  down  upon  your  head,  or  if  that  is 
under  the  blankets,  which  it  most  probably  will  be,  soak  your  blankets.  If 
properly  made  and  laid,  your  bedding  will  be  thoroughly  protected  against 
such  unwelcome  visitations.  In  travelling,  this  canvas  sheet,  into  which 
all  your  blankets  are  rolled,  and  round  which  a  stout  strap  is  passed,  will 
protect  the  latter,  and  makes  of  the  whole  a  bundle  just  of  the  right  weight 
and  si/.e  for  one  side  of  a  pack.  If  the  outfit  is  that  of  a  trapper,  and  not 
that  of  a  well -fitted -out  shootintr-party,  a  different  use  is  made  of  the 
blankets  when  ef?  route.  They  will  be  used  as  saddle-blankets  under  the 
pack-saddles.     My  men  habitually  did  this  with  their  blmkets,  and  when 


Appendix,  409 

fchat  disastrons  prairie  fire  reduced  our  blankets,  mine,  which  hitherto  had 
escaped  that  fate,  were  turned  into  saddle-blankets  during  the  day,  and 
used  for  the  bed  at  night.  At  first  this  is  not  pleasant,  as  very  often  you 
have  no  chance  to  air  and  dry  them  before  you  make  up  your  couch,  and 
hence  will  have  to  put  up  with  a  damp  bed ;  or  if  the  thermometer  sinks 
low,  they  will  be  metamorphosed  into  boards.  During  that  fearful  snap  of 
cold  which  surprised  us  last  November,  it  was  generally  quite  impossible 
to  prevent  this,  for  as  soon  as  the  blankets  were  removed  from  the  steaming 
horses  they  were  frozen  hard,  and  one  had  to  be  quick  to  get  them  spread 
out  before  they  turned  stiflf  as  sheets  of  tin.  At  such  times  buffalo  robes 
come  in  capitally,  and  with  one  under  you  and  one  over  yon,  and  a  pile 
of  *'  boards "  stacked  on  top,  we  had  nothing  to  complain  of — at  least 
as  long  as  no  snow  hurricane  was  blowing.  When  that  is  raging  you  have 
to  take  refuge  to  heavy  logs  of  wood,  stones,  or  half-a-dozen  pack- 
saddles,  scientifically  distributed  over  your  bed,  to  keep  anything  on  it. 
It  has  often  occurred  to  me  that  sleeping-bags,  lined  with  fur  and  made  on 
the  principle  of  those  in  use  in  the  Pyrenees,  would  be  capital  things  for 
men  travelling  in  a  more  luxurious  way  than  I  did.  For  "  roughing  it," 
there  is,  however,  nothing  like  a  waggon-sheet,  for  it  can  be  turned  to 
various  uses.  As  a  windbreak,  tied  to  two  trees  and  weighted  down,  it  is 
unrivalled,  and  in  emergencies  it  will  make  a  capital  dog-tent.  We 
weathered  two  very  bad  snowstorms  in  one  rigged  up  with  a  few  poles  and 
a  waggon-sheet. 


THE  CLIMATE  OF  WYOMING  AND  MONTANA. 

Feom  Mr.  Strahom*s  **  To  the  Rockies  and  Beyond,*'  I  take  the  following 
statistics  regarding  observations  made  at  Fort  Benton  (Montana)  : — 

In  1872  there  were  305  perfectly  fine  cloudless  days ;  in  1873,  291 ; 
1874,  277;  1875,  289;  1876,  286;  1877,  300;  giving  an  average  of  291 
fine  days  per  annum.  The  average  temperature  in  January  for  the  eight 
years  beginning  1867  was  20°  2',  the  greatest  extreme  cold  (presumably 
during  day-time)  being,  in  1875,  —44"  Fahr.,  and,  as  the  papers  reported, 
in  1880  (November),  —52^*  Fahr.  In  Virginia  City,  5713  feet  over  the  sea, 
the  greatest  heat  in  1877  was  94°,  while  for  six  winters  the  thermometer 
never  went  below  — 19"  Fahr. 

Mr.  Granville  Stuart,  well-known  as  the  oldest  settler  of  Montana,  for 
he  came  t>  ere  in  1857,  has  made  faithful  observations  of  the  climate  ot 
Deer  Lodge  Valley,  in  that  Territory,  which,  it  may  be  mentioned,  lies  oq 
the  same  parallel  of  latitude  as  Venice,  and  he  has  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  hard  winters  seem  to  come  exactly  five  years  apart ;  but  this  ii 


4IO  Appendix. 

hardly  borne  ont  by  the  fact  that  the  two  severest  winters  he  noted  in  th« 
West  were  those  of  1857-8  and  1880-1.  On  the  former  occasion  the  wean 
temperatare  for  January  was  1J°  Fahr.,  or  30i°  of  frost :  1875  being  also  a 
hard  winter.  The  average  snowfall  for  the  four  winter  months  for  eight 
years  was  not  more  than  24§  inches.  With  the  exception  of  the  severe 
winters,  cattle  and  sheep  owners  experienced  no  losses  to  speak  of.  In  one 
respect  Montana  has  the  advantage  over  Western  and  even  Central 
Wyoming,  for  being  less  of  a  high  table-land,  there  are  more  sheltering 
mountain  ranges  against  the  very  severe  blizzards,  or  winter  storms,  which 
in  Wyoming  rage  with  a  violence  nobody  who  has  not  lived  through  one 
can  possibly  imagine. 


OUTFIT  FOE  SPORTSMEN. 

Asms. — If  the  sportsman  intends  to  visit  only  the  Rocky  Mountains,  a 
shot-gun  will  be  found  an  encumbrance.  As  accidents  to  rifles  are  not 
infrequent,  especially  in  the  case  of  the  slender-stocked  English  Express, 
the  following  plan,  I  found,  works  very  well.  Take  one  double-barrelled 
*450  or  '500- Express  and  one  of  Bland's  Cape  rifles  (one  shot,  12  bore,  and 
one  Express-barrel),  and  have  them  made,  so  that  the  stock  and  barrels 
of  both  arms  are  interchangeable,  thus  if  you  break  the  stock  of  your 
Express  you  can  use  the  one  of  the  Cape  gun,  and  vice  vers&.  The  shot- 
barrel  will  come  in  useful  for  a  change  of  ffrub  in  the  way  of  grouse, 
though,  being  very  tame  birds,  they  can  very  easily  be  killed  with  the  rifle 
by  shooting  their  heads  off;  The  Express  rifle  should  shoot  a  solic'  bullet 
in  one  barrel.  For  grizzlies  there  is  nothing  like  a  long  cannelured  (not 
patched)  missile,  though  if  made  very  long  it  will  perceptibly  increase  the 
recoil.    On  the  whole,  I  think  a  •500-bore  better  than  '450  for  the  Rookies. 

PowDEE. — The  American  powder  is  nearly  as  powerful  as  our  best 
grades.  For  Express  purposes  I  have  found  the  coarse-grained  Orange 
Lightning  brand  to  answer  remarkably  well. 

Cabtbidges. — If  a  longer  stay  is  meditated,  it  answers  much  better  to 
take  out  empty  cartridges  and  reloading  tools,  and  load  your  shells  yourself, 
or  let  your  men  do  it  for  you.  The  solid-drawn  straight  shells  of  the 
National  Arms  and  Ammunition  Company  at  Birmingham  are,  I  have 
found,  decidedly  superior  to  those  manufactured  by  Eley  Brothers.  The 
former  are  more  uniform  in  size,  and  their  cap  (containing  the  anvil)  is 
better  than  Eley*s  plain  cap.  I  have  had  a  good  many  missfires  with  the 
latter,  and  only  one  with  the  former. 

Wads. — The  lubricating  wad  suitable  for  hot  climates  I  have  found  to 
be  worse  than  useless  for  the  West,  as  somehow  it  seems  to  foul  the  barrdf 


Appendix,  41 1 

rery  quickly,  particularly  in  cold  weather.  I  always  use  a  thick  felt  nn- 
greased  wad  over  the  powder,  and  on  it,  when  in  the  cartridge,  I  place  a 
little  fat,  such  as  Elk -tallow,  &c.  This,  I  found,  gave  me  the  best  results, 
•nd  it  allows  more  powder. 

ExPBEss  Bullets  ought  to  be  taken  with  you. 

Revolver. — If  a  revolver  muxt  be  taken,  then  a  small  •450-Bulldog  is  as 
good  a  weapon  as  can  be  recommended  for  purposes  of  self-defence  at  close 
range,  the  disabling  powers  of  this  pistol  being,  on  account  of  its  large  bore, 
of  fair  amount. 

A  Tool-Box,  or  better,  a  "tool  hold-all**  of  leather,  to  be  rolled 
together,  is  an  indispensable  article.  Messrs.  Holtzapfel  and  Go's.,  Charing 
Cross,  and  the  Army  and  Navy  Stores,  are  good  places  for  this.  Hunting 
Knives,  containing  a  dozen  or  two  of  domestic  tools,  are  not  useful  things. 
If  attached  to  the  belt — the  only  way  the  cumbersome  knife  can  be  carried 
— they  are  very  liable  to  be  lost.  For  my  part  1  would  recommend  a 
smaller  pocket-knife  to  be  carried  in  the  pocket  (made  of  c>;.«aoi8-leather), 
and  a  proper  skinning-knife  worn  at  the  belt.  The  only  place  where,  so  far  as 
I  know,  these  somewhat  oddly-shaped  tools  can  be  bought  in  London  is  at 
Silver  and  Co.,  Cornhill,  where  they  are  sold  as  **  Green  River  Knives,* 
for  3«.,  including  case. 

A  Camp  Bucket  is  a  most  useful  article.  While  the  bucket  itself  can  be 
used  as  water- pail,  the  rounded  lid  as  washhand  basin,  the  former,  when 
packed,  contains  the  entire  hardware  crockery — plates,  cups,  kettles,  f  rj^ing- 
pans,  tea,  coffee,  sugar,  and  salt-tins,  knives,  forks,  and  spoons,  for  the 
entire  party.  Langton  and  Sons,  King  Edward  Street,  E.C.,  made  me  one 
to  my  design  which  worked  capitally.  Its  weight  for  four  people  is  about 
25  lbs.,  cost  32.  to  42.  They  should  be  used  once  or  twice  on  picnics,  &c.,  so 
that  no  entering-duty  will  have  to  be  paid. 

"  Rucksack,"  oe  Stalker's  Bag  is,  as  I  have  said,  for  all  sporting 
purposes  a  most  useful  article;  also,  as  I  maintain,  for  carrying  spare 
cartridges,  concerning  which  there  was  lately  a  lively  controversy  in  the 
Field.  Its  three  chief  points  of  merit — the  easy  distribution  of  all  weight 
carried  in  it,  and  the  circumstance  that  when  not  used  it  can  be  stuffed 
into  a  coat-pocket,  while  when  required  it  will  hold  an  entire  roe-buck, 
and  being  waterproof — place  it  quite  beyond  the  competition  of  the  old- 
fashioned  game-bag  and  knapsack,  both  inventions  that  for  unpracticalness 
could  take  prizes.  The  only  place  in  England,  so  far  as  I  know,  where  the 
stalker's  bag  can  be  obtained  is  at  G.  Cording's,  125,  Regent  Street. 

Clothing. — In  late  autumn  very  warm  clothes  are  required.  One 
ought  to  look  more  to  their  windproof  than  waterproof  qualities. 
Lambswool-lined  driving-gloves  are  capital  things,  and  a  so-called 
Icelander  cap  (knitted),  covering  the  whole  head — a  great  comfort. 


412  Appendix. 

Boots,  of  course,  should  be  taken  from  England.  Low  ankle-boots  of  thi 
■toutest  make  are  the  best.     Bedding  had  better  be  got  out  West. 

Otheb  Abticles.-— a  pair  of  stout  lawn-tennis  shoes  with  the  so-called 
••pyramid"  sole  {not  ribbed)  will  be  found  most  useful.  You  hardly 
get  used  to  wear  moccasins  in  less  than  a  month  or  two,  and  the  lawn- 
tennis  shoe  answers  the  same  purpose. 

WAPITI 

A  FEW  remarks  concerning  the  period  when  the  three  chief  species  of 
Western  deer  have  their  horns  "  cleaned,"  and  in  a  further  degree  when 
they  shed  them,  will  perhaps  be  not  unwelcome  to  sportsmen  intending  to 
visit  the  Western  hunting-grounds. 

Wapiti  shed  their  horns  later  than  the  smaller  deer,  April  being  the 
usual  time.  Mule-deer  shed  about  the  latter  half  of  February.  I  happened 
to  be  last  February  in  a  locality  where  this  species  had  congregated  in 
thousands,  offering  exceptionally  good  opportimity  to  watch  the  process. 
Unlike  the  Wapiti,  who  shed  their  antlers  simultaneously,  or  very  nearly  so, 
the  deer  not  unfrequently  carry  one  horn  much  longer  than  the  other ;  and 
within  a  few  days  towards  the  end  of  the  month  of  February  I  saw  a  number 
carrying  only  one  horn.  Whitetail,  the  smallest  of  the  three  deer  species 
to  be  found  West,  shed  about  the  same  time  as  the  mule-deer,  though,  to 
speak  of  my  own  experience,  which  is  somewhat  contrary  to  that  of  others, 
I  found  that  they  are  later  in  cleaning  than  the  last-mentioned  kind. 
Two  summers  ago,  about  the  middle  of  August,  I  happened  to  shoot  a  buck 
of  each  sort  on  one  and  the  same  day ;  and  while  the  larger  one  had  his 
antlers  perfectly  clean,  those  of  the  Whitetail  were  still  in  velvet. 

Wapiti,  I  find,  vary  in  different  years.  In  1877  and  1878  they  were 
cleaned  quite  ten  days  earlier  than  in  1879,  observations  being  made  in  one 
and  the  same  locality  in  Wyoming,  at  an  altitude  of  about  7000  feet.  Last 
summer  they  were  still  later,  though  I  must  remark  that  in  this  instance  I 
was  further  North,  and  a  good  deal  higher  in  altitude. 

The  shooting  of  the  four  bulls  on  August  13th,  1880,  to  which  I 
referred  in  the  text,  gave  me  a  good  opportunity  to  arrive  at  some  con- 
elusions  respecting  the  reason  of  the  difference.  Favoured  by  the  ground, 
which  was,  if  not  covered  with  snow,  of  very  soft  nature,  I  tracked  the 
four  I  had  killed.  Evidently  my  victims  were  strangers  to  each  other,  and 
had  probably  met  by  accident  on  the  enticingly  cool  snow.  Two  bulls 
which,  when  I  shot  them,  were  closest  to  me,  had  come  up  from  the 
southern  slopes,  where  dense  timber  and  low  brushwood,  the  home  of  myriads 
upon  myriads  of  mosquitoes  and  flies,  covered  the  mountain.  The  rest — 
•videctly  belonging  together — the  males  of  which  were  all  in  "velvet," 


Appendix.  413 

bad  come  from  the  North- West,  had  crossed  the  very  highest  part  of  the 
range,  quite  12,000  feet  in  elevation,  and  had  descended  a  slope  some 
900  feet  in  height,  which,  if  not  actually  a  sheer  precipice,  was  the  very 
next  thing  to  it,  and  which  I  would  have  sworn  no  living  creature  save  a 
chamois  or  a  mountain  goat  could  descend,  least  of  all  an  animal  handi- 
capped by  branching  antlers  of  great  size. 

This  lot  had  come  from  their  usual  homes  at  that  season  of  the  year,  a 
vast  stretch  of  barren  highland,  situated  on  the  other  side  of  the  range, 
where  there  were  no  mosquitoes  or  flies.  Hence  I  came  to  the  conclusion 
(possibly  a  wrong  one)  that  those  Wapiti  which  habitually  range  in  forests 
where  flies  are  bad,  shed  the  velvet  considerably  sooner  than  others  which 
are  not  bothered  by  these  pests  j  and,  as  some  years  and  some  localities  are 
much  more  exposed  to  these  scourges  of  man  and  beast,  I  fancy  prolonged 
experience  would  establish  the  fact  that  in  such  years,  and  in  such  places, 
Wapiti  '*  clean  "—or,  as  the  Western  hunters  call  it  "  shake,*'  from  the 
motion  of  the  trees  against  which  they  rub — from  two  to  three  weeks 
earlier  than  others. 

A  few  days  later  I  had  again  occasion  to  watch  Wapiti  descending  a  slope 
as  precipitous  as  the  other  one.  It  was  a  most  interesting  sight,  and  one 
certainly  I  never  expected  to  see.  They  came  down  very  slowly,  following 
a  sort  of  chimney-like  gully.  In  the  steepest  parts  they  would  sit  back  on 
their  haunches,  and,  with  their  antlers  also  well  thrown  hack  and  their 
front  legs  thrust  forward,  half  slide,  half  edge  down  the  amazingly  steep 
declivity.  In  other  places  they  would  step  down  broadside  on,  while  the 
last  part  of  the  descent  was  made  in  one  big  rush,  carrying  them  far  out 
into  the  level  ground  at  the  foot  of  the  rocks.  None  of  the  men  had  ever 
seen  a  similar  performance  on  the  part  of  elk;  and  when  I  showed  them  the 
first  precipice  they  were  so  incredulous,  that  I  took  them  up  to  where  the 
tracks  proved  in  an  incontestable  manner  the  truth  of  my  words. 

In  another  respect  the  last  season  was  a  phenomenal  one,  namely,  in  the 
irregularity  of  the  "  whistling  '*  time  (rutting  season)  of  Wapiti.  It  began 
a  fortnight  earlier,  and  lasted  quite  three  weeks  longer  than  usual.  I  shot 
my  first  *•  whistling  *'  stag  on  September  4th,  and  my  last  on  October  25th, 
though  they  were  still  whistling  on  November  2nd.  In  connexion  with 
the  shedding  of  horns,  Wapiti,  it  would  seem  to  me,  make  an  exception  to 
most  other  species  of  deer  that  I  know,  namely,  that  their  horns  are  nearly 
always  cast  within  a  few  yards  of  each  other.  I  happened  to  pass  last  year 
through  a  favourite  district  of  Wapiti  in  shedding  time,  as  \ras  proved  ty 
the  extraordinary  number  of  antlers  that  lay  about  on  the  barren  slopes 
facing  the  south,  frequented  by  them  in  April  and  May.  Many  of  them 
were  of  truly  gigantic  proportions  ;  one  pair,  I  remember,  measured  font 
inches  more  in  length,  namely,  sixty-eight  inches,  than  the  biggest  head 


414  Appendix. 

tny  own  killing^.  It  was  curious  to  observe  how  sing  ilarly  close  the  two 
separate  horns  always  lay  to  each  other.  Of  twenty-six  very  big  pair  1 
counted,  only  one  pair  was  further  apart  than  forty  or  fifty  yards. 

Wapiti  die  bard.  I  remember  a  very  big  old  bull  I  once  opened  fire  on 
at  a  distance  of  some  250  yards.  He  was  standing  looking  at  me  broadside 
on,  when  he  received  my  first  two  bullets.  As  the  distance  was  somewhat 
great,  and  not  seeing  the  slightest  sign  that  I  hit  him,  I  gave  him,  while 
yet  standing  perfectly  motionless,  two  more.  Port,  who  happened  to  be 
with  me  at  the  time,  cried  "  Shoot !  shoot !  Don't  you  see  you  have  missed 
him ."  I  felt  sure  this  was  not  the  case,  for  I  had  taken  careful  aim,  and 
my  old  '*  trail  stopper  "  was  good  for  that  distance.  Before  I  had  time  to 
follow  his  advice  the  stag  *'  broke  together  "  precisely  in  the  manner  I  have 
described.  When  we  came  up  to  him  we  found  that  Port's  big  hand 
covered  my  four  ballet-holes.  No  other  deer  that  I  know  would  act  in 
this  manner,  but  no  other  stag  proper  approaches  the  Wapiti  in  size.  If 
not  well  hit  he  will  carry  off  an  enormous  amount  of  lead.  I  have  put  as 
many  as  fourteen  Express  'BOO-bore  bullets  into  one,  and  in  the  end  only 
got  him  by  a  mere  fluke. 

Some  authors  on  the  Wapiti  have  endowed  him  with  trucculent  vicious- 
ness,  maintaining  that  a  wounded  Wapiti  will  charge  you.  Of  this  I  never 
came  across  the  slightest  evidence.  Owing  to  carelessness  I  once  got  a 
slight  prod  while  I  was  in  the  act  of  severing  the  spinal  cord  of  a  beast 
at  his  last  gasp.  It  was  only  a  spasmodic  movement  Respecting  their 
fighting  propensities  among  themselves,  I  frequently  witnessed  during 
whistling  time  battles  between  old  bulls,  waged  with  a  deadly  fury  quite 
as  great  as  mark  the  duels  between  their  European  brethren.  Of  some 
twenty  odd  good  heads  I  bagged  at  one  period,  more  than  half  were 
damaged,  having  from  one  to  four  tines  broken  off  short.  Later  on  I  came 
across  much  fe  bulls  with  damaged  antlers — a  circumstance  not  easy  to 
explain.  My  own  experience  tends  to  prove  that  many  bulls  injured  in 
fights  die  subsequently  a  lingering  death.  Of  the  above-mentioned  twenty 
stags,  six  or  seven  showed  severe  wounds,  one  or  tw^o  among  them  being 
hardly  able  to  stagger  along  at  the  time.  My  bullet  delivered  them  from 
further  misery. 

On  one  occasion  my  trapper  and  I  were  running  a  band  of  Wapiti,  num- 
bering some  four  or  five  hundred,  picking  out  the  biggest — which  are 
always  the  best  protected  by  a  surging  mass  of  does  and  smaller  fry.  We 
followed  them  for  five  hours,  with  two  or  three  halts,  over  the  stiffest 
ground  that  horses  could  possibly  cross,  when  a  big  bull,  shot  too  far  back, 
charged  another  one,  a  fierce  fight  ensuing  there  and  then  between  the 
iwo,  who  seemed  entirely  oblivious  of  our  close  presence.  This  *'  running  " 
a  gang,  is  lively  sport,  provided  you  have  ft'esh  horses.  Up  and  down 
precipitous  slopes,  across  ravines  and  through  timber,  always  at  a  htnd- 


Appendix,  415 


gallop,  one's  riding  qualities  are  tested ;  and  one's  nerves  tingle  with  life 
and  excitement,  so  that  the  risks  of  broken  bones  are  set  at  nought.  But 
there  is  a  dark  side  to  this  exciting  sport ;  for  not  only  is  it  hardly  worthy 
of  the  noble  game  to  shoot  them  as  you  would  the  unwieldy  aud  dull- 
Bpirited  bison,  but  as  you  necessarily  wound  animals  which  you  never  can 
hope  to  release  from  their  sufferings.  I  indulged  in  it  only  tn  two  occa- 
sions, and  I  hope  never  to  do  so  again. 

It  is  a  singular  fact,  that  suggests  many  interesting  explanations,  that 
in  Germany  —the  home  country  of  our  European  deer — and  among  certain  of 
the  mountain  tribes  of  Indians  in  North  America — the  two  so-called  canine 
teeth  of  the  stag  (growing  in  the  upper  jaw)  are  equally  much  prized. 

Among  the  "  Crows  "  in  Montana,  fifty  pair  of  ordinary  ones  used,  till 
quite  lately,  to  purchase  a  good  pony.  And  in  Germany  I  have  made 
many  a  sportsman  very  happy  indeed  by  a  pair  of  Wapiti  teeth ;  my  stock 
being  only  too  soon  exhausted. 

The  big  pair  of  my  great  stag  are  no  longer  together,  I  had  them  mounted 
as  pins  ;  and  the  memory  of  the  grand  old  fellow  is  honoured  by  two  august 
sportsmen  who  graciously  accepted  them. 

Regarding  i..  comparative  weight  of  antlers,  and  of  the  whole  stag,  my 
experience,  both  in  Europe  and  America— i.e.  with  Red  Deer  and  Wapiti — 
leads  me  to  say  that  the  usual  proportion  is  about  1 :  25,  as  long  as  the 
stag  is  in  good  condition.  However,  after  rutting-time  the  proportion  is 
very  much  less ;  in  the  isolated  cases,  where  I  have  been  able  to  arrive  at 
the  weights,  they  stood  about  1 :  15. 

Of  all  deer,  the  skin  of  the  Wapiti  makes  the  poorest  leather,  though  the 
hide,  if  shot  about  the  end  of  October,  can  be  made  into  a  pretty  rug  or 
robe.  It  is  not  uninteresting  to  note  that  Lewis  and  Clarke's  famous 
exploring  expedition  in  the  first  decade  of  the  present  century,  when  they 
penetrated  to  the  upper  waters  of  the  Missouri,  very  nearly  came  to  grief 
owing  to  the  unenduring  quality  of  the  Elk  hides,  of  which  they  had  made 
their  only  boat,  packing  in  it  all  their  instruments  and  stores.  The  boat 
and  its  contents  were  entirely  lost,  and,  as  the  explorers  maintain,  only  on 
account  of  the  spongy  nature  of  the  material.  **  Had  we  used  buffalo 
skins,  we  undoubtedly  would  have  passed  the  falls  of  the  Missouri  in 
safety,"  remark  the  intrepid  explorers  in  their  narrative.  Wapiti  hides  are 
on  this  account  practically  worthless. 

It  will  not  be  out  of  place  if  I  here  draw  attention  to  the  fact,  that  the 
problem  of  the  preservation  of  the  large  game  of  Montana  and  Wyoming, 
now  the  best  game  districts  of  the  country,  i« — aside  of  the  general  meta- 
morphosis of  wild  mountain  country  into  cattle  ranges — entirely  dependent 
upon  one  condition,  the  price  of  "  pelts."  As  long  as  the  price  of  antelope 
and  Deer  skins  per  pound  remains  less  than  fifteen  cents,  and  Elk  skins  less 
than  twelve  cents,  net  to  the  hunter,  there  will  be  few  killed,  except  foi 


41 6  Appendix. 

food.  When  the  price  rises  above  these  figures,  the  dettrnction  will  go  on 
in  a  greater  or  less  ratio,  in  proportion  thereto. 

A  recent  writer,  in  Forest  and  Stream,  very  truly  says  of  the  late  rise 
in  the  prices  of  deer  and  antelope  skins  to  twenty-five  and  thirty-f  ve  cents 
per  pound,  that  the  destruction  of  those  animals  has  been  commensurate. 
For  the  season  of  1880  the  shipment  of  hides  on  the  Missouri  and  Yellow- 
stone having  been  approximately  167,000,  and  for  1881,  143,000,  repre- 
senting about  seventy- five  per  cent,  of  animals  actually  killed.  The  hard 
winters  of  1879-80,  and  1880-81,  with  their  deep  snows,  peculiarly  favoured 
this  work,  as  during  the  winter  months  elk,  deer,  and  antelope  band 
together  in  large  herds,  and  are  the  more  easily  bagged.  During  the 
summer  they  disperse  into  small  bands,  the  two  former  disappearing  into 
the  timber  of  the  foot-hills  and  of  the  most  rugged  mountains.  Last 
spring,  elk  skins,  which  before  that  had  been  of  small  value,  rose  to  twenty- 
two  and  twenty-five  cents,  per  pound  ($2.50  to  $5  PC  hide) — this  price 
giving  a  fine  profit.  Last  summer  the  deer  were  even  followed  into  the  high 
and  most  precipitous  mountains,  their  summer  home  (something  that  had 
never  been  done  before),  ten  to  twelve  days'  travel  of  packs  being  necessary 
to  get  the  hides  to  market. 

And  so  with  the  bufl'alo.  During  all  seasons  when  their  robes  were  good 
this  work  has  been  steadily  going  on,  and  mostly  by  m«»n  who  have  been 
engaged  in  the  business  for  years  on  the  southern  bufi^ulo  ranges. 

As  a  matter  of  statistical  information,  pains  have  been  taken  to  gather 
the  following  facts,  believed  to  be  approximately  correct,  in  relation  to  the 
ihipment  of  hides  from  the  Yellowstone  and  Missouri  rivers  for  the  years 
named,  and  which  represent  from  seventy  to  seventy-five  per  cent  of  the 
inimals  killed  by  men  engaged  in  that  business : — 


1880. 
Yellowstone  'River— deer  and  antelope    ...        „,       ...      6^,000 
Missouri  River— deer  and  antelepe  m*        «.        «.    107,000 


167,000 


Yellowstone— buflRalo  (by  whites)  ...  ^  ...  ...  22,700 

„                  „      (by  Indians)...  ^  «.  ...  5,000 

No  report  fipom  the  Missouri.  — — —     27,700 

Total  ...        ^  ^  m,  m.         194^700 

1831. 

Yellowstone— deer      ...        m.        •»  20,000 

Yellowstone — antelope          ~.        m.  m.  ...  «.  63.000 

Missouri — deer  and  antelope          ~.  ...  «.  ...  70,000 

Yellowstone— elk         m.  «•  «.  „.  5,200 


Yellowstone— buflfalo  (whites)        ...       ^       78,000 

„  „       (Indians)      .^        m.        .«        •»      15,000 

Ifisaonri— boffalo        ...       ......»•«.       ...     23,000 


143,000 
5,200 


116,000 
Total  ....»«.«•.        ...         264.200 


Appendix,  41 7 


In  a  subsequent  portion  of  the  article  tbe  writer  Bays  i— 

"  It  is  not  probable  that  the  price  of  pelts  (with  the  decreasing  annual 
Bupply)  will  again  fall  below  a  paying  piice  to  the  pelt-hunter  j  so  that  tbe 
sequences  before  chalked  out  in  this  article  will  just  as  inevitably  obtain  as 
that  day  follows  night,  and  a  few  years  will  witness  the  gradual  extermina- 
tion of  the  grandest  game  that  ever  existed  on  the  earth." 

Let  me  here  say  a  few  words  on  a  different  subject,  i.e.  that  cruel  and 
certainly  very  unsportsmanlike  habit  of  careless  shooting  where  game  is  so 
abundant,  as  in  the  West.  Only  too  often  men  will  pot  away  at  a  band  of 
antelopes  or  deer,  supremely  indifferent  regarding  the  ultimate  fate  of  those 
animals  they  have  happened  to  hit,  but  who  failed  to  fall  at  the  crack  of 
the  rifle.  Then  you  will  hear:  "I  think  I  hit  half  a-dozen,  but  they  all 
went  off,  and  I  can't  bother  to  make  sure  what  has  become  of  them."  And 
the  mighty  hunter,  whose  cheek  would  blanch,  were  he  to  be  told  that  he 
had  done  something  very  unsportsmanlike — indeed,  something  which  in 
point  of  torture  inflicted  to  brute  creation  is  far  worse  than  cutting  off  a 
cow*8  tail,  consoles  himself  with  the  thought,  "  Well,  perhaps  it  won't  hurt 
them  much.'* 

It  is  this  very  circumstance  which  makes  me  a  strong  partisan  of  Express 
rifles  of  larger  bore  even  for  the  smaller  species  of  game,  such  as  our  red- 
deer  and  chamois.  For  if  hit,  the  wound  is  in  nearly  every  case  far  more 
effective  than  that  of  smallbore  solid  balls.  You  instantly  see  that  the 
game  is  hit,  and  the  quantity  of  blood  lost  by  the  animal,  if  it  can  continue 
its  flight,  is  infinitely  greater  than  from  those  inflicted  by  the  other  species 
of  aim,  not  only  exhausting  the  victim  much  sooner,  but  making  the 
tracking,  even  without  a  dog,  comparatively  easy. 

In  my  eyes  the  misery  inflicted  on  animals  by  careless  shooting,  and 
which  many  sportsmen  hold  in  very  slight  regard,  is  infinitely  worse  than 
a  slioi'tcouiing  for  which  a  favourite  word  in  their  selfish  vocabulary  is 
always  ready.  What  this  word  is  those  who  on  one  occasion  were  so 
singularly  handy  with  it  will  best  know. 


MAUYAISES  TERKES. 

Protbssob  Gbieib  puts  the  chief  features  of  the  geological  formations  o£ 
the  West  in  such  plain  words,  that  I  may  be  pardoned  if  I  quote  a  few  of 
his  remarks.     He  says  : — 

**  Granted  that  the  solid  materials  out  of  which  a  mountain  or  table- 
land has  been  built  were  originally  accumulated  as  sediment  on  the  floor 
of  the  sea,  how  has  this  hardened  sediment  been  fashioned  into  the  well- 
known  Uneaments  of  the  land  ?     The  solution  of  this  question  aroused  some 

le 


41 8  Appendix. 

years  ago  a  keen  dis*  ussion,  and  has  given  rise  to  a  portentous  masg  of 
geological  literature.  The  combatants,  as  in  most  warfares,  scientific  or 
other,  ranged  themselves  into  two  camps.  There  were  the  Convulsionists, 
or  believers  in  the  paramount  efficacy  ot  subterranean  movement,  who, 
Btarting  from  the  universally  admitted  proofs  of  upheaval,  crumpling,  and 
fracture,  sought  an  explanation  of  the  present  inequalities  of  the  land  in 
unequal  disturbance  from  below.  On  the  other  band,  there  were  the 
Erosionists,  or  upholders  of  the  efficacy  of  superficial  waste,  who  maintained 
that  besides  the  elevations  due  to  subterranean  causes,  mountains,  valleys, 
and  all  the  other  features  of  a  landscape  have  been  gradually  carved  into  their 
present  shapes  by  the  slow  abrasion  of  the  air,  rain,  rivers,  frosts,  and 
the  other  agents  of  subaerial  erosion.  The  contest,  which  was  keen  enough 
Bome  years  ago,  has  for  a  while  almost  ceased  among  us,  though  an  occasional 
shot  from  younger  combatants,  fired  with  the  old  enthusiasm,  serves  to 
keep  alive  the  memory  of  the  campaign. 

"  Having  long  ago  attached  myself  to  the  camp  of  the  Erosionists,  thoQgb 
by  no  means  inclined  to  do  battle  under  the  extreme  '  quietist  *  banners  of 
some  of  its  champions  ...  I  have  long  been  convinced,  that  for  the  proper 
discussion  of  the  real  efficacy  of  superficial  erosion  in  the  development  of  a 
terrestrial  surface,  the  geologists  of  Europe  hare  been  at  great  disadvantage. 
The  rocks  in  these  regions  have  undoubtedly  b€en  subjected  to  so  many 
changes — squeezed,  crumpled,  fractured,  upheaved,  and  depressed  —that  the 
effects  of  unequal  erosion  upon  their  surface  has  been  masked  by  those  of 
subterranean  disturbance.  The  problem  has  thus  become  much  more  com- 
plicated than,  with  simpler  geological  structure,  it  would  have  been.  Its 
solution  has  demanded  an  amount  of  knowledge  of  geological  structure  which 
can  hardly  be  acquired  without  long  and  laborious  training,  the  want  of 
which  on  the  part  of  many  who  have  taken  part  in  the  controversy,  has  led 
to  the  calling  in  question  or  denial  of  facts,  about  the  reality  and  meaning 
of  which  there  should  never  have  been  any  doubt  at  all.  That,  in  spite  of 
these  obstacles,  observers  in  this  country  should  have  been  able  to  brush 
aside  the  accidental  or  adventitious  difficulties,  and  to  get  at  the  real  gist 
of  the  matter,  a£  I  am  certain  they  have  done,  seems  to  me  a  lasting  proof 
of  their  scientific  prowess. 

'♦  Now,  it  is  unquestionably  true  that  had  the  birthplace  of  geology  lain 
on  the  west  side  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  this  controversy  would  never 
have  arisen  The  efficacy  of  denudation,  instead  of  evoking  doubt,  discus- 
sion, or  denial,  would  have  been  one  of  the  first  obvious  principles  of  the 
science,  established  on  the  most  irrefragable  basis  of  patent  and  most 
impressive  facts.  Over  thousands  of  square  miles  the  strata  remain  prac- 
tically unchanged  from  their  orig'nal  horizontal  position,  so  that  the  effects 
»f  surface  erosion  can  at  once  be  detected  upon  their  flat  parallel  layers.  The 


Appendix.  419 


totintry  has  not  been  under  the  sea  for  a  vast  succession  of  geological  periods. 
It  has  not  been  buried,  like  so  much  of  Northern  Europe,  and  North- Eastern 
America,  under  a  thick  cover  of  ice-borne  clays  and  gravels.  Its  level 
platforms  of  sandstone,  shale,  clay,  or  limestone,  lie  at  the  surface,  bare  to 
the  wind  and  rain,  and  their  lines  can  be  followed  mile  after  mile,  as  if  the 
whole  region  were  one  vast  geological  model,  to  which  the  world  should 
come  to  learn  the  fundamental  laws  of  denudation." 

"  The  Mauvaises  Terres"  or  "  Bad-lands,"  is  the  expressive  name  of  the 
strangest,  and,  in  many  respects,  the  most  repulsive  scenery  in  the  world. 
They  are  tracts  of  irreclaimable  barrenness,  blasted  and  left  for  ever  lifeless 
and  hideous.  To  understand  their  peculiar  features,  it  is  needful  to  bear 
in  mind  that  they  lie  on  the  sites  of  some  of  the  old  lakes  already  referred 
to,  and  that  they  have  been  carved  out  of  flat  sheets  of  sandstone,  clay, 
marl,  or  limestone  that  accumulated  on  the  floors  of  these  lakes.  Every- 
where, therefore,  horizontal  lines  of  stratification  meet  the  eye,  giving 
alternate  stripes  of  bufl',  yeUow,  white,  or  red,  with  here  and  there  a 
Btrange  verdigris-like  green.  These  strata  extend  nearly  horizontally  for 
hundreds  of  square  miles.  But  they  have  been  most  unequally  eroded. 
Here  and  there  isolated  flat-topped  eminences  or  '*buttes,"  as  they  are 
styled  in  the  West,  rise  from  the  plain  in  front  of  a  line  of  buff"  or  cliff  to  a 
height  of  several  hundred  feet.  On  examination,  each  of  these  hills  is 
found  to  be  built  up  of  horizontal  strata,  and  the  same  beds  reappear  in 
lines  of  terraced  cliflf"  along  the  margin  of  the  Plain.  A  butte  is  only  a 
remnant  of  the  original  deep  mass  of  horizontal  strata  that  once  stretched 
far  across  the  Plain.  Its  sides  and  the  fronts  of  the  terraced  cliffs,  utterly 
verdureless  and  bare,  have  been  scarped  into  recesses  and  projecting 
buttresses.  These  have  been  further  cut  down  into  a  labyrinth  of  peaks 
and  columns,  clefts  and  ravines,  now  strangely  monumental,  now  un- 
couthly  irregular,  till  the  eye  grows  weary  with  the  endless  variety  and 
novelty  of  the  forms.  Yet  beneath  all  this  chaos  of  outline  there  can  be 
traced  everywhere  the  level  parallel  bars  of  the  strata.  The  same  band  of 
rock,  originally  one  of  the  successive  floors  of  the  old  lake,  can  be  followed 
without  bend  or  break  from  chasm  to  chasm,  and  pinnacle  to  pinnajle. 
Tumultuous  as  the  surface  may  be,  it  has  no  relation  to  underground 
disturbances,  for  the  rocks  are  as  level  and  unbroken  as  when  they  were 
laid  down.     It  owes  its  ruggedness  entirely  to  erosion. 

**  But  there  is  a  further  feature  adding  to  the  repulsiveness  of  the  "  Bad- 
lands." There  are  no  springs  or  streams.  Into  the  soil,  parched  by  the 
fierce  heats  of  a  torrid  summer,  the  moisture  of  the  subsoil  ascends  by 
capillary  attraction,  carrying  with  it  the  saline  solutions  it  has  extracted 
from  the  rocks.  At  the  surface  it  is  at  once  evaporated,  leaving  behind  a 
white  crust  or  efflorescence,  which  covers  the  bare  ground  and  encrusts  the 

E  e  2 


42  o  Appendix, 

pebbles  strewn  thereon.  Vegetation  wholly  fails,  save  here  and  there  i 
bunch  of  salt-weed,  or  a  bunch  of  the  ubiquitous  sage-brush,  the  parched, 
livid-green  ol  which  serves  only  to  increase  the  desolation  of  the  desert/' 

THE  BIGHORN. 

That  Bighorn  rams  fight  among  themselves  during  rutting-time,  I 
had  in  my  last  trip,  occasion  to  observe.  I  watched  several  such  en- 
gagements; when  the  rams  would  run  at  each  other  with  amazing 
force,  striking  each  other's  horns  with  such  violence  that  I  heard  the 
sound  two  or  three  hundred  jards  oflf  with  quite  a  stiff  breeze  blowing 
athwart  the  intervening  space.  Port  once  shot  a  very  big  ram,  shortly  after 
the  rutting  season,  who  had  an  immense  cut,  extending  from  the  shoulder 
to  the  middle  of  his  back ;  a  wound  undoubtedly  inflicted  by  a  rival. 
Likewise  was  it  the  good  tbrtune  of  one  of  the  men  to  kill,  three  years  ago, 
an  hermaphrodite  Bighorn,  with  very  singular  horns.  Passing,  twelve 
months  afterwards,  near  the  place  where  he  killed  it,  I  was  anxious  to  secure 
the  head,  but  it  was  gone ;  cayotes  or  wolverines  having  probably  carried 
it  off.  According  to  the  description  given  to  me,  the  horns  resembled 
those  of  a  two  or  three-year-old  ibex,  lacking,  however,  the  "  rings  ** 
peculiar  to  the  latter's  headgear. 

To  speak  of  sizes  given  by  English  sportsmen,  it  would  seem  that  many 
of  the  conflicting  accounts  woulil  be  brought  to  agree  by  taking  the  simple 
fact  into  consideration  that  the  horns  shrink,  not  only  in  girth  at  the  base, 
but  also,  strange  as  it  sounds,  in  length.  An  instance  mentioned,  if  I  am 
not  mistaken,  by  Lord  Dunraven  in  his  •*  Great  Divide,"  of  the  singular 
difference  in  the  measurement  of  the  same  pair  of  horns,  some  time  having 
elapsed  between  the  first  and  second  application  of  the  tape,  led  me  not 
only  to  examine  every  available  source  of  information,  but  also  to  m»ke 
accurate  measurements  myself,  both  of  which  proved  to  me  beyond  doubt 
that  the  girth  decreases  considerably  more  than  the  length  of  the  horn 
measured  along  the  curve.  Even  the  ibex  horn,  which  is  more  solid,  shrinks, 
it  seems,  though  to  a  much  lesser  degree,  as  can  be  seen  by  the  silver 
and  gold-mounted  goblets,  snuffboxes,  and  powder-flasks  wrought  by  the 
expert  German  silversmiths  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  of 
the  treasured  "steiubock,"  all  of  which  will  be  found  to  have  shrunk  from 
their  mountings  j  and  this  in  the  moist  climate  of  Europe,  with  a  solid 
mass  of  horn.  How  much  greater  must  the  shrinkage  be,  therefore,  of  a 
horn  supplied  with  a  soft  core,  in  a  climate  so  dry  that  waggon  wheels 
made  of  seasoned  hickory  fall  to  pieces  if  not  frequently  wetted  P 
Nothing  is  easier,  thereforo,  than  to  explain  many  of  the  apparently  con- 
flicting statemepts  made  bj  English  sportsmen,  who  have  omitted  to  Btata 


Appendix.  42 1 

irhen  the  horns  they  speak  of  were  measured— whether  at  once  on  the 
death  of  the  animal,  or  a  year  or  two  afterwards.  From  what  I  saw,  I 
■hould  not  in  the  least  doubt  that  a  heavy  pair,  shot  in  summer,  would  in 
ne  year  decrease  an  inch  in  girth,  especially  if  left  in  a  dry  climate. 

An  American  author  of  a  recent  monograph  on  this  animal,  states  that 
rams  emit  at  rutting  time  **  a  long-drawn  booming  bark,  not  a  signal  of 
distress,  but  an  amatory  acclaim,  an  invocation  of  the  dulcis  dea  amathusia 
when  the  mercury  trembles  at  forty-five  below  zero."  I  have  never  heard 
this  sound,  but  I  am  inclined  to  think  the  author  intended  to  use  not 
the  word  mercury,  which,  as  everybody  knows,  congeals  at  39®  Fahr.,  but 
another  one,  say  for  instance  gullibility.  I  give  this  contribution  to  Natural 
History  with  due  reserve. 

In  Mexico  the  Bighorn  is  hunted  with  dogs.  With  this  form  of  chase 
the  author  I  have  cited  seems  to  be  better  acquainted  than  with  that  of  the 
Northern  Rockies.  The  dogs,  he  says,  used  are  a  special  breed  of  fleet 
animals,  called  galgos,  or  cimarroneros,  in  Nueva  Leon,  and  said  to  be 
descendants  of  those  powerful  sleuth- hounds  that  are  used  to  chase  the 
wolf  and  the  Iberian  ibex  in  the  Eastei-n  Pyrenees.  In  quiet  winter  nights 
the  cimarrdns  often  descend  to  the  middle  region  of  the  sierra,  but  hurry 
back  to  the  highlands  at  the  first  alarm  j  and,  taking  advantage  of  this 
habit,  the  hunting-party  divide  their  forces.  At  a  given  signal  the  first 
galgos  are  slipped,  and  though  they  may  fail  to  overtake  the  fugitives,  they 
will  put  them  to  hard  shifts  before  they  reach  the  uplands,  where  they  have 
to  run  the  gauntlet  of  the  second  detachment.  If  the  dogs  understand 
their  business,  they  will  co-operate  and  keep  their  game  together  till  they 
can  make  a  simultaneous  attack ;  for,  if  the  herd  scatters,  the  first  victim 
will  generally  prove  a  scapegoat  for  the  rest.  Going  straight  up-hill  the 
cimarrdns  often  improve  their  start  by  dashing  up  a  clifi'  where  the  pursuer 
has  to  turn  to  the  left  or  right ;  but  on  level  ground  the  tables  are  turned, 
and,  once  abreast  of  his  game,  the  hound  makes  short  work  of  it,  dashing 
ahead  ot  the  nearest  good-sized  sheep— often  a  nursing  ewe— and,  suddenly 
turning,  flies  at  the  throat  in  true  wolf  style  and  le  rasga  la  vida,  as  the 
Spaniards  express  it — **  tears  out  her  life  ** — at  the  first  grip.  The  galgo 
does  not  remove  his  prey,  but  stays  on  the  spot  and  summons  the  hunter 
by  a  peculiar  howl,  repeated  at  shorter  and  shorter  intervals  if  he  has 
reason  to  fear  that  snow-drifts  or  prowling  wolves  will  make  his  post 
untenable.  Professional  cimarrdn-hunters  generally  carry  a  meat-bag,  as 
contact  with  the  hairy  coat  of  the  deer-sheep  often  afflicts  the  human  skin 
with  oosquillas  ("sheep- tickle"),  a  persistent  itch  that  sometimes  spreads 
from  the  hands  to  the  chest,  but,  strange  to  say,  cannot  be  traced  to  any 
risible  cause.  Like  mange  and  prurigo,  it  is  probably  caused  by  microscopic 
parasites. 


422  Appendix. 


AIJTLERS  AND  HEADS. 

Antlers  should  never  be  sawn  off  at  the  burr,  a  portion  of  the  skull  should 
itlways  be  included.  As  it  is,  of  course,  quite  impossible  to  pack  Wapiti 
antlers  on  packhorses,  they  must  be  separated  by  sawing  through  the  skull- 
bone  that  has  been  left  on  them,  thus  each  horn  will  have  a  piece  of 
bone  attached  to  it,  which  also  facilitates  mounting  if  the  head  is  to  b« 
stuffed,  and  what  is  most  important  the  correct  angle  of  skull  and  horns  is 
preserved.  It  is  often  supposed  that  to  have  an  entire  head  stuffed  it  is 
necessary  to  take  with  you  the  whole  skull,  jaw-bone,  &c  This  is  by  no 
means  the  case.  The  antlers  sawn  off  as  advised,  and  the  head-skin  taken 
off  well  down  to  the  chest,  great  care  being  taken  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
eyes,  is  all  that  is  wanted.  For  preserving  these  head-skins  in  the  West, 
where  the  air  is  singularly  dry,  nothing  more  is  necessary  than  to  turn  them 
inside  out,  so  that  the  "snout**  is  of  sack-like  shape  (also  the  ears  have 
to  be  turned),  and  so  let  them  dry.  Not  a  single  Wapiti  head-skin  of  mine 
was  in  the  slightest  damaged,  notwithstanding  that  ten  or  eleven  months 
intervened  before  they  reached  the  taxidermist's  hands.  If  they  have  to  be 
boxed  while  yet  damp,  a  liberal  coating  of  salt  and  alum  will,  I  am  told, 
protect  them  till  they  reach  Europe. 

With  Bighorn  heads,  also  very  cumbersome  things  to  pack,  the  mode  la 
even  simpler.  If  the  whole  head  (and  portion  of  the  neck)  is  to  be  stuffed, 
skin  the  neck  clear,  and  then  sever  the  spina!  cord  at  the  top  nearest  to  the 
skull,  doing  the  same  with  the  lower  jaw-bone.  A  circular  incision  at  the 
base  of  skull  will  enable  you  to  get  out  the  brain. 

Two  saws  should  be  taken— one  an  eighteen-inch  broad-bladed,  the  other 
a  fifteen-inch  butcher's  saw,  the  blade  of  which  can  be  screwed  in;  »  few 
spare  blades  being  taken. 


ZOOLOGICAL  COLLECTIONS  IN   ENGLAND. 

Regabding-  this  subject  much  could  be  written.  Their  singular  poorness  haa 
been  often  remarked  by  otbers.  None  of  our  great  public  zoological  museums 
are,  it  would  seem  to  unprejudiced  observers,  at  all  on  a  par  with  our  national 
weakness  for  sport.  While  it  is  perfectly  true  that  in  many  English  country 
mansions  there  are  collections  of  game  animals  and  beasts  of  prey  unri- 
valled, in  their  speciality,  by  any  one  of  the  chief  museums  in  the  world — 
in  fact,  at  least  half-a-dozen  such  private  repositories  could  be  named,  each 
a  matchless  and  complete  collection  of  a  large  continent's  quarry,  the  result 
of  the  life-long  efforts  of  a  single  devotee — yet  a  country  cousin,  or  foreigner 
»n  a  visit  to  our  metrop  )lis,  and  desirous  of  examining  our  national  zoological 


Appendix.  423 

collections,  cannot  help  being  struck  by  tbe  startling  disparity  between 
these  ill-arranged  shows  of  game  animals — consisting  generally  of  very 
inferior  specimens  in  a  bad  condition,  very  poorly  stuffed,  and  crowded 
together  "  as  if,"  as  a  French  savant  onco  remarked  to  me,  "  we  tried  to 
pack  them  into  the  smallest  possible  space  " — and  the  far-famed  renown  of 
the  ubiquitous  English  sportsman,  who,  in  the  pursuit  of  ganie,  traverses 
Oceans  and  Continents,  expends  riches,  and  braves  untold  dangers  with  a 
composure  and  determination  worthy  of  great  ends. 

There  would,  I  fancy,  be  perhaps  less  prating  from  radical  platforms  against 
the  classes  from  which  the  sportsman  is  usually  recruited,  were  the  public 
made  a  little  better  acquainted  with  those  features  that  legitimize  the 
pursuit  of  the  Nimrod;  and  while  this  would  tend  to  raise  the  standard  of 
sport  in  the  eyes  of  the  outside  world,  it  would  also  create  fresh  and  attrac- 
tive fields  for  the  unabating  activity  of  that  product  of  the  British  stamina- 
endowing  soil — the  English  sportsman. 


THE  TETON"  BASIN. 

F0ITB  or  five  months  after  my  return  to  civilization,  my  attention  was 
drawn  to  an  article  by  one  of  the  four  gentlemen,  members  of  the  Hayden 
Exploration  Party,  who  had  ascended  the  Grand  Teton  in  1872.  The 
account  and  the  illustrations  are  rather  of  a  sensational  character.  The 
party  ascended  the  great  chain  from  the  West  and  not  from  the  East, 
as  I  did,  so  of  course  1  cannot  speak  of  the  first  half  of  their  work,  From 
their  accounts  it  was  comparatively  easy,  the  difficult  part  commencing  on 
leaving  the  backbone  to  tackle  the  peak  itself.  This  portion  we  had  in 
common,  at  least  to  judge  from  their  graphic  and  minute  description  ;  and 
it  is  here  that  the  writer  must  allow  me  to  differ  with  him.  Had  he 
confined  himself  to  American  mountains  in  his  comparison  of  mountaineer- 
ing difficulties,  I  would  not  have  a  single  word  to  say,  for  probably  the 
Teton  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  peaks  in  North  America,  at  any  rate  in 
the  Rocky  Mountains ;  but  as  he  drew  the  Alps  into  his  discussion,  of  which, 
as  he  confesses,  he  had  no  personal  acquaintance,  I  have  to  remind  him  that 
what  he  says  of  them  is  not  entirely  correct.  Among  the  statements  he 
makes  are  the  following  :  "  No  steeper  ascents  than  those  made  by  us  have 
ever  distinguished  the  Alpine  climbers ;  and  when  Whymper  states  that  the 
ascension  of  one  mile  in  two  miles  of  latitude  is  prodigiously  steep,  we 
may  be  forgiven  a  little  pride  in  the  accomplishment  of  a  mile  of  ascent  in 
Bomewhat  less  than  one  mile  of  latitude."  Considering  that  one  of  the 
climl)ers  was  a  gentleman  "  fresh  from  his  home  in  England,  who  knew 
little  of  the  properties  of  snow  and    ice,"  the  author  had,  perhaps,  l«w 


424  Appendix. 

difScnlty  in  persuading  his  andrence  of  the  truth  of  the  above  state- 
ment  than  he  would  have  in  the  case  of  persons  conversant  with  moun- 
tains. The  expedition  seemed  to  partake  of  the  exceptional  in  the  eyes 
of  the  writer,  for  even  a  surgeon  had  "considerately  accompanied  us  to 
the  base  of  the  ridge,  provided  with  instruments  and  bandages  in  case  of 
accidents."  Considering  that  "  on  the  top  of  an  adjacent  pinnacle,  but 
little  lower  than  the  one  we  occupied,"  they  found  signs  of  human 
architecture  of  a  rude  form,  the  words  of  the  writer,  "others  might 
come  after  us,  but  to  be  the  first  where  hundreds  had  failed  was  no 
braggart  boast,*'  are  perhaps  a  little  inconsistent,  and  on  a  par  with  the 
opinion  he  expresses  that  the  ascent  is  more  difficult  than  that  of  the 
Matterhorn. 

The  scenery  on  the  range  itself  is  of  savage  grandeur,  and  the  pecultir 
clearness  of  the  air  makes  this  all  the  more  apparent,  for  everything  is 
thrown  out  far  more  distinctly  than  in  the  mellower,  and  unquestionably 
more  picturesque  light  of  the  Alps.  Even  from  the  backbone  of  the  chain 
a  vast  sweep  of  country  is  visible,  and  from  the  much  higher  altitude  I 
gained  on  the  peak  the  view  was  very  fine  j  towards  the  West  it  is  of 
melancholy  desolateness,  for  you  overlook  the  barren  table-lands  of  Idaho, 
and  vast  stretches  of  mauvaises  terres.  Towards  the  North  and  East  the 
view  is  far  grander,  and  entirely  of  Alpine  character.  Beginning  with  the 
Yellowstone  country,  you  see  before  you  the  Great  Divide  for  a  length  of 
at  least  200  miles,  and  it  was  pleasant  to  note  the  different  peaks  in  the 
distant  range  I  had  ascended. 

There  are  some  small  glaciers  on  the  Teton  ;  the  few  remaining  refuges 
for  these  formations  in  the  Central  or  Northern  Rocky  Mountains.  I  may 
still  refer  mountaineers  to  an  interesting  account  of  Alpine  work  in  the 
Rocky  Mountains  of  Wyoming  and  Idaho,  by  Mr.  James  Eccles,  in  No.  65 
of  the  Alpine  Journal. 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  mystery  about  the  locality  of  the  Teton  Basin. 
According  to  some  accounts,  it  is  on  the  Western  slopes  of  the  range,  and 
is  not  the  same  place  as  Jackson's  Hole,  this  supposition  being  shared  by 
several  map-makers.  In  Professor  Hay  den's  last  map  of  that  region  the 
name  Teton  Basin  does  not  occur  at  all.  The  testimony  of  two  trappers, 
who  have  known  the  locality  for  the  last  thirty  or  forty  years,  proves  the 
terms  to  be  synonymous,  and  each  to  refer  to  the  place  located  on  the 
Eastern  slopes. 

THE  BEAVER 

The  beaver's  castoreum,  i.e.  the  contents  of  his  musk -bag,  was  once,  m 
everybody  knows,  a  very  valuable  drug.     Now  it  is  no  longer  used  by  the 


Appendix.  425 

iruggist  and  apothecary,  but  the  decline  is  comparatively  of  very  recent 
date.  Von  Tschudi,  the  editor  of  Winkell's  famous  Sporting  Chronic, 
mentions  that  as  late  as  1852  the  castoreum  of  a  European  beaver  fetched 
as  much  as  509  Rhenish  florins  (50^.).  Singular  to  say,  no  Western 
trappers  I  had  occasion  to  interrogate  regarding  the  market  value  of 
castoreum  knew  anything  about  it,  though  many  of  them  had  trapped  for 
thirty  or  forty  years.  It  would  appear  that  from  Alaska  248  lbs.  of 
castoreum  were  exported  to  Europe  in  1852. 

Not  only  to  the  naturalist,  but  also  to  the  historian,  does  the  beaver 
afford  study.  For  two  centuries  or  more  the  pelt  of  this  animal  was  an 
important  article  in  our  mercantile  annals,  our  upper  classes  wearing  it 
exclusively  for  about  200  years.  In  Charles  IL's  reign  Parliament 
prohibited  the  use  of  any  other  material  but  beaver  skins  for  hat  manu- 
facture. It  was  also  frequently  exercised  in  passing  statutes  on  behalf  of 
beaver  fur  and  the  protection  of  its  trade.  So>  for  instance,  do  I  find  in 
the  Calendar  for  that  year,  that  Sir  David  Cunningham  received,  a.d.  1638, 
new  leases  for  twenty-one  years  of  a  duty  of  twelvepeuce,  payable  to  his 
Majesty  upon  every  beaver  hat  and  cap  made  by  the  Company  of  Beaver 
Makers  of  London,  with  a  moiety  of  the  benefit  of  seizures  of  all  foreign 
beaver  hats  imported.  For  this  a  yearly  rent  of  500L  was  paid.  Prices  of 
beaver  fur  have  kept  up  with  the  ruling  fashions  of  the  day.  Thus,  200 
years  ago,  during  the  Dutch  occupation  of  New  Amsterdam,  beaver  skins 
were  worth  about  10*.  a-piece  (a  very  high  price),  and  were  used  in  lieu  of 
currency.  In  1820,  and  again  in  1834,  they  were  worth  on  the  trapping 
ground  from  21.  to  31. ;  while  twenty  or  twenty-five  years  ago  a  good  skin 
fetched  but  8*.,  at  which  rate  the  soles  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  in 
1854-5-6  amounted,  it.  wonld  appear,  in  London  alone  to  627,656  skinfc 


426  Appendix. 


...     3  10  ... 

,  7000 

...     2    0  ... 

,  2000 

...  10    0  ... 

.     850 

—    .., 

,    200 

THE  CATTLE  RANCHE  BUSINESS 

AcooBDiKd  to  a  statement  I  append,  made  upon  the  spot,  and  submitted 
to  the  critical  examination  of  several  of  the  most  reliable  ranchemen  I  cams 
across,  it  appears  that  a  man  starting  with  a  capital  of  10,000/.  will,  if  he 
does  not  touch  either  capital  or  interest  for  three  years,  at  the  end  of  that 
period  be  the  richer  by  8800/.  This,  with  moderate  luck  and  careful 
handling. 

ESTIlfATB  FOB  CaTTLB-EAISINO  VS  WTOMrNG  OB  MoNTAITA  TeBBI. 

TOBIES.    Capital  invested,  10,000/.,  as  follows  : — 

▲  herd  of  2000  good  Oregon  or  XJlah  cows,  75  per  cent.  £  «.         JS         4  M 

of  which,  if  carefully  selected,  wiih  calves,  cost  in 

1879,  delivered  at  ranche      

1000  yearlings       

85  good  American  balls.  Shorthorn  or  Hereford 
CJost  of  building  log  ranche  and  corrall     ... 
Necessaries  for  ranche :  60  i>onies  at  61.  saddlery  and 

branding  iron  and  waggon ^      —    ...    460  ...10,000 

Your  stock-book  would  show  at  end  of  tirst  year  ;— 

The  1500  calves  bought  with  the  cows,  of  which  760 
heifers  and  750  steer  calves  would  now  be  worth  as 
yearlinK's 2    0  ...  8000 

The  1000  yearlings  would  now  be  two-year-olds,  worth 
3i.,  or  It.  more  than  at  first —    ...1000...    4000 

Expenses :  ranche  expenses,  provisions  for  four  men 

W per  annum         —    ...    800 
ages  of  three   cow-boys,  $36  per  month  »7i.  per 

month =84Z.  per  annum        —    ^    252 

Other  incidental  charges  and  taxes  —    «.    148 

Losses :  usually  fully  covered  by  5  T)er  cent,  on  capital 

in  cattle —    ...    470  ...    1170 

PaoMTsatendofwiBSTyear ...  ...  : 

Your  stock-book  at  end  of  sscoira  year  would  showt— 
The  750  heifer  calves,  now   two-year-olds,  would  be 

worth  2i.  15».,  or  16».  more ^    ...    680 

The  750  steer  calves,  now  two-year-olds,  would  now  be 

worth  3i.,  or  1^.  more —    ...    760 

The  1000  yearlings,  now  three  years  old,  would  be 

worth  3Z.  10«.,  or  10«.  more —    ...    600 

The  2000  cows  had  calves  the  first  year  ;  take  75  jwr 

cent.,  would  give  1500  calves,  now  yearlings,  worth...    2    0  ...  8000  ...    A 
Banche  expenses,  increased  by  200i. ;  additional  man's 

hire,  losses  above  the  first  6  per  cent.,  increased  by 

100*.  (SOOi.),  added  to  1170Z —    ...    —    ...    1470 

Tbovits  at  end  of  sbcond  year        .~       ...       J 


Appendix,  427 


Tom  stock-boo  k  at  end  of  thibd  year  would  show : — 
The  750  heifer  calves,  now  three  years  old,  would  bo 

worth  (increased)  16«.  — •    ...    090 

The  760  steer  calves,  now  three  years  old,  would  be 

worth  (increased)  \l —    ...    750 

The  1000  yearlings,  of  which  600  heifers  would  have  376 

two-year  calves S    0...    710 

600  steers,  no  increase. 

The  2000  cows  had  calves  second  year,  76  per  cent 

=  1600,  worth a    0  ...  8000 

The  first  1500  calves,  now  two-year-olds  (750  heifers), 

worth  11.  16*.  (-2060/.)  ;  760  steers,  worth  3i.  i2250^.)  ...      —    ...  4310 
The  first  750  heifer  calves,  now  three-year-olds,  had 

calves  (now  yearlings)  660  at         S    0  ...  1120  ...10,490 

Ranche  expenses,  increased  by  300?.  (purchase  of  bulls, 

horses,  and  additional  men's  hire).         

Losses  above  the  first  6  per  cent.,  increased  by  200Z. 

(500i.),  added  to  1170i —     ^    —  ...  1670 

Pbofits  at  the  end  of  THIBD  year      8820 

One  or  two  items  in  my  statement  require  a  word  of  explanation.  It 
will  be  seen  that — at  starting— I  counted  three  cowboys,  which,  if  the 
master  is  competent  and  understands  his  business,  is  ample.  If  he  is 
not,  and  is  only  recently  out  from  England,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  for 
him  to  have,  at  least  for  the  first  year  or  two,  a  foreman.  You  can  get 
capital  men  of  this  class,  reliable  and  of  long  experience,  for  about  $75  to 
$100  per  month  (1802.  to  2402.  per  annum),  and  in  no  case  would  I  advise 
men  to  engage  in  the  business  without  first  acquiring  some  of  the  most 
fundamental  principles  and  details.  This  can  be  very  easily  done  by  a  visit 
of  two  or  three  months  to  one  of  the  outlying  ranches,  where  the  rough 
sides  of  life  are  best  seen.  Personal  experience  is  very  essential  out  West. 
Gross  exaggeration  on  every  subject  is  very  generally  the  rule.  Hear  and 
see  for  yourself,  is  about  the  best  advice  that  can  be  given  to  the  immi- 
grant. In  a  country  where  human  fortune  fluctuates  so  strangely,  and 
where  men  of  all  classes,  grades,  and  character,  are  thrown  together — it  is 
doubly  incumbent  upon  the  stranger  to  keep  his  eyes  and  ears  skinned — in 
fact,  to  believe  but  what  he  himself  sees. 

As  I  have  before  pointed  out,  the  profits  of  the  business  are  only  then 
great  when  sufficient  capital  is  invested  to  **  fill  the  corners."  Men  in  a 
small  way  cannot  expect  to  make  more  than  fifteen  or  twenty  per  cent. 
No  person  who  takes  to  ranching,  solely  as  a  money-making  speculation, 
should  think  of  starting  in  it  with  less  than  1500  or  2000  head.  Good 
judges  maintain  that  the  real  profits  come  in  only  when  you  have  5000  or 
6000  head  to  start  on.  The  larger  the  herd,  the  less  will  be  the  cost  per 
head  of  running  the  concern. 

Wyoming  and  Montana,  being  further  north  than  Colorado,  have  more  snow 
in  winter,  notwithstanding  that  the  summers  and  autumns  are  very  similat 
in  their  delightful  and  invigorating  effects.  Snow,  however,  as  I  have  clearly 
said,  in  most  Western  regions  is  very  unlike  our  European  commodity. 


428  Appendix. 

Great  extremes  are  also  common.  A  cold  gpell  will  for  days  take  tbe 
thermometer  down  to  30°  Pahr.,  while  the  following  week  fine  sunny  wea^ 
ther  will  set  in,  which  continues  for  a  month  at  a  time.  Often  have  I  ridden 
about  coatless  on  a  December  or  January  day.  The  winds  in  these  portions 
of  the  West  are  at  times  extraordinarily  high.  But,  as  I  have  stated,  they 
are  the  salvation  of  the  country ;  but  for  them,  the  snow  would  remain  on  the 
ground,  and  not  one  single  head  of  cattle  be  able  to  survive  even  a  moderate 
winter.  But  at  the  same  time,  next  to  water,  high  bluffs,  locks,  or  mouutain 
ranges,  with  the  countless  little  ravines  and  gorges  peculiar  to  the  Rocky 
Mountain  formation,  are  quite  indispensable  when  selecting  your  range,  for 
there  alone  can  cattle  find  shelter  from  the  fury  of  the  elements.  On  the 
approach  of  one  of  these  winter  storms  you  will  see  them  flock  from  con> 
Biderable  distances,  fifteen  or  twenty  miles,  to  these  sheltering  nooks. 

Cattle-raising  on  the  free  public  lands  of  the  Western  Territories  is 
attracting  general  attention  just  now  in  the  United  States.  New  York, 
Boston,  and  all  the  great  cities  on  the  Atlantic,  are  naturally  much 
interested  in  the  raising  of  an  improved  stock  for  the  European  markets. 
Several  books  have  appeared  quite  recently  on  this  subject,  and  the  maga- 
rines  are  full  of  papers  picturing  the  delightful  life  and  sure  way  of 
"  trebling  your  capital  in  three  years."  The  great  fault  an  Englishman 
has  to  find  with  all  these  accounts  is  their  more  or  less  exaggerated  descrip- 
tions. When  speaking  of  the  profits,  they  are  all  more  or  less  unreliable. 
Thus,  for  instance,  does  the  author  of  "  Cattle  Ranches  in  Colorado  "  give 
a  very  considerably  over-estimated  account  of  the  profits  that  await  the 
emigrant.  According  to  him,  a  herd  of  4000  cows  and  eighty  Hereford 
bulls,  costing  $76,000,  will,  at  the  end  of  three  years,  be  worth  3233,800 
How  this  happy  result  is  to  be  achieved  is  detailed  at  great  length  in  a 
very  plausible  and  taking  manner,  very  apt  "  to  fetch  "  even  the  coolest 
reader,  who  happens  to  be  ignorant  on  the  subject. 

Another  writer  in  a  book  on  Colorado,  just  published,  gets  entirely  lost 
amongst  the  "000"  of  profits.  According  to  him,  $72,000  invested  in 
4000  cows  would  in  seven  years  swell  to  $730,952,  the  profits  of  the  last 
year  alone  amounting  to  $254,792. 

Unlike  many  of  our  European  crafts,  however,  where  long  training  and 
the  experience  of  years  precede  the  actual  start,  the  majority  of  persons 
engaged  in  stock-raising  have  had  no  previous  acquaintance  whatever  with 
its  working  details ;  and  hence  the  perplexity  consequent  on  an  over- 
abundance of  *'  good  "  advice,  exaggerated  accounts  of  profits,  and  the  ease 
with  which  success  is  to  be  compassed,  proves,  as  I  often  have  had  occasion 
to  remark,  a  serious  stumbling-block  for  new  comers. 

Locusts,  au  ever-threatening  danger  to  the  future  farmers  in  Wyoming 
and  Montana — for  both  Territories  belong  to  what  the  Government  Ento. 
mological  Commission  define  as  the  permanent  or  native  breeding-ground. 


Appendix,  429 


«rha*e  the  ipecies  is  always  fonnd — are  for  the  cattlemen  of  those  regions 
a  source  of  very  little  anxiety. 

The  question  of  improving  the  breeds  of  Western  cattle  is  receiving  every 
year  more  attention.  When  Mr.  L.  F.  Allen,  President  of  New  York  State 
Agricultural  Society,  says,  "The  Americans  (perhaps  of  all  people  so 
intelligent  and  active  in  their  agricultural  pursuits),  have  been  the  least 
enterprising  in  improving  their  breeds  of  cattle,"  this  can  hardly,  with 
justice,  be  extended  to  trans-Missourian  regions,  where  the  whole  business 
of  raising  cattle  is  of  the  most  recent  origin.  No  doubt  the  next  ten  year» 
will  see  a  very  vast  improvement  in  this  matter. 

While  "  prospecting  **  for  a  range  or  learning  the  details  of  the  business, 
I  wonld  recommend  the  concealment  as  much  as  possible  of  one's  object. 
Sight-seeing  or  "gunning  "  covers  retreat  in  that  respect.  At  many  of  the 
ranches  the  owners  are  not  present ;  but  this  is  no  disadvantage,  as  much 
more  can  be  frequently  gleaned  from  the  servant  than  from  the  master, 
who,  if  he  does  understand  the  business,  is  often  of  a  suspicious  cast,  and 
does  anything  bnt  tell  the  truth.  It  was  from  the  mouths  of  the 
cowboys  —  mostly  a  genial,  open-handed  set  of  fellows,  the  best  of 
company,  and  the  best  of  story-tellers — that  I  learnt  much  of  the  details  of 
the  business.  This,  however,  can  only  be  attained  if  the  stranger  (I  am 
speaking  here  to  Englishmen)  is  willing  to  treat  them  as  they  want  to  be 
treated,  which  to  a  man  who  has  no  false  pride  about  him,  and  the  desire 
to  give  no  offence,  is  the  easiest  of  tasks.  In  four  cases  out  of  five  they 
represent  not  only  the  hands,  but  also  the  head  of  the  concern.  The  owner 
or  "  boss,**  in  not  a  few  cases,  can  perhaps  hardly  tell  the  difference  between 
an  Oregon  and  a  Texas  cow ;  he  is  often  hundreds  of  miles  away,  following 
his  regular  occupation  as  hotel-keeper,  doctor,  or  banker,  in  towfls  and 
cities,  visiting  his  ranche  for  a  week  once  a  year ;  and  many  of  the  ranges 
I  passed  had  never  been  seen  by  the  owner  of  the  cattle  that  grazed  over  it. 
It  was  looked  up,  located,  and  the  ranche  building  erected  by  the  foreman 
and  his  cowboys. 

It  is  needless  to  point  out  what  grave  responsibilities  are  assumed  by  an 
author  writing  on  a  country  as  a  field  for  emigration.  Even  with  the 
most  uninterested  motives  he  is  apt,  by  giving  colour  to  one  feature  and 
passing  over  another,  to  mislead.  In  the  foregoing  notes  and  text  I  have 
been  at  pains  to  state  all  the  pros  and  contras  of  the  rough  ranche  business 
as  fairly  as  I  possibly  could.  What  I  have  written  appeared  originally  in 
the  Field  (January  31st  and  March  6th,  1880),  and  elicited  many  replies 
of  which  1  propose  to  add  one  letter,  published  in  the  Field  February  7th, 
1880,  as  it  puts  the  whole  case  into  a  nutshell. 

**  Sib,—  I  have  read  with  interest  the  paper  in  your  last  issue  by  Mr. 
B«llie>Qrohman  on  the  cattle  ranches  of  Wyoming,  and  quite  agree  with 


430  Appendix, 

him,  that  before  any  person  determines  upon  entering  into  cattle-raising 
on  the  frontiers  in  America  he  should  have  personal  and  practical  experience. 
**Many  of  the  publications  upon  the  subject  are  misleading  and  unreliable, 
as  I  have  found  from  inquiries  which  I  was  induced  to  make  in  consequence 
of  my  son's  determining  to  go  into  the  business.  Having  made  pre- 
liminary arrangements,  I  wrote  to  a  friend  in  the  State  asking  his  advice, 
and,  as  it  may  interest  some  of  your  readers  who  feel  inclined  to  go,  I 
append  hig  reply,  A. 

*"As  to  your  inquiry  about  purchasing  land,  my  opinion  is  that  well-selected 
prairie-land  in  any  of  our  promising  Western  counties  cannot  fail  to  prove 
a  fairly  profitable  purcliase  on  the  capital  invested,  even  if  the  land  be  left 
untouched,  simply  paying  the  State  tf^xes  thereon,  for,  at  the  rate  the 
public  lands  are  being  taken  up  by  settlers  and  purchased  by  speculators, 
and  given  away  by  Government  as  subsidies  to  railroads  and  other  objects, 
not  many  years  will  elapse  before  no  cheap  lands  worth  having  can  be  had; 
hence  held,  they  must  before  many  years  bring  a  handsome  profit.  You 
will  see  that  no  land  can  be  owned  by  non-residents  that  are  so  safe  as 
prairie-land.  Timber-land  is  robbed,  mining-land  is  worked,  but  a  virgin 
prairie  cannot  be  stolen,  burned,  or  injured— hence  is  the  safest,  if  not 
occupied.  The  best  advice  I  can  offer  in  the  more  important  step  contem- 
plated by  you  in  reference  to  your  son's  engaging  in  cattle-raising  on  the 
frontier  is  to  come  and  see  for  yourself.  You  must  not  believe  any  of  the 
glittering  generalities  which  you  read  in  the  various  published  accounts. 
Most  of  them  are  put  forward  from  interested  motives.  I  feel  that  it  is 
too  serious  a  matter  for  me  to  say  one  word  which  would  induce  you  to 
send  your  son  here,  the  result  of  which  might  be  the  reverse  of  what  yon 
anticipate.  I  have  never  advised  any  one  to  leave  England  and  come  here. 
There  are  some  grave  reasons  why  I  could  not  do  so,  chief  of  which  is  the 
almost  impossible  conversion  of  an  Englishman  into  an  American.  I  came 
here,  as  you  know,  from  England  when  I  was  ten  years  old,  and  have  been 
educated,  trained,  and  fully  Americanized.  The  great  diflBculty  in  the  way 
of  success  to  an  Englishman  in  America  is  that  he  remains  an  Englishman. 
Farming  and  stock-raising  cannot  be  done  by  proxy.  The  old  adage  of 
Franklin  is  so  truthful  when  applied  to  this  country,  that  it  must  not  be 
overlooked,  viz  ; — 

He  who  by  the  plough  would  thrive 
Must  either  hold  himself  or  drive. 

*••  We  have  no  gentlemen  farmers  here.  Our  most  prosperous  farmers  are 
out  at  work  with  their  men  early  and  late ;  never  say  *  Go  and  do,'  but 
•  Come,  let  us  do  this.' 

•* '  Stock-raising  on  the  frontiers,  such  as  yon  contemplate  for  your  son, 
jnvoWes  pluck,  physical  endurance,  hardships,  exposures,  a  frontier  lift 


Appendix,  431 

among  men  of  the  roughest,  hardest  character,  whose  very  calling  is  one  of 
danger,  making  them  reckless  of  life,  both  their  own  and  others' ;  when 
on  duty,  isolated,  living  on  the  Plains  away  from  settlements,  watching 
their  stock  from  bandits  and  Indians,  When  they  come  into  town,  like 
sailors  from  a  long  voyage,  their  earnings  go  like  water  ;  only  life  is  often 
taken  in  their  debauchery,  for  on  the  frontier  it  is  a  threat  and  a  shot — 
often  the  shot  first,  and  some  poor  wretch  passes  into  eternity.  Nothing 
is  done  about  it ;  a  frontier  country  makes  its  own  laws,  and  *  Judge 
Lynch  *  is  the  only  tribunal  to  hold  them  in  check. 

**  *  I  say  this,  and  do  not  overstate  it;  because  you  should  know  exactly  what 
herding  cattle  on  the  frontier  means.  The  day  following  the  receipt  of  your 
letter  I  met  a  friend,  who  had  been  in  Kansas  buying  up  some  seven- 
eighth  pure  blood  shorthorns  for  a  relative  in  Chicago,  and  had  also  been 
down  to  Fort  Worth,  on  the  Santa  Fd  Railway,  to  complete  a  purchase  of 
5000  acres,  where  he  is  going  to  raise  cattle  and  sheep.  He  is  an  American, 
and  thoroughly  up  in  all  questions  of  cattle  herding,  having  been  in  every 
State  and  Territory  of  the  Union,  and  his  opinion  is  reliable.  He  confirms 
all  I  have  written,  and  says  that  a  man  to  have  an  even  chance  with 
others  must  be  possessed  of  experience  and  reckless  bravery,  and  be  a 
frontiersman,  while  he  would  need  have  the  moral  courage  to  resist  a 
thousand  temptations  of  a  frontier  cattle-town  ;  and,  as  an  instance,  a  little 
town  he  went  to  had  only  eight  places  of  legitimate  business,  and  forty- 
three  places  for  gambling,  drinking,  and  kindred  vices;  and  I  am  afraid 
this  description  applies  generally  to  the  great  cattle- raising  section  of  the 
country. 

•* '  There  are  many  places  nearer  settlements  where  the  business  of  stock- 
raising  or  mixed  farming  can  be  carried  on  by  experienced  persons  with 
success,  and  there  can  be,  I  think,  no  doubt  there  is  a  great  future  for  this 
country,  and  that  any  person  with  a  moderate  amount  of  capital,  who  can 
adapt  himself  to  the  American  customs  and  ideas,  is  bound  to  succeed  if  he 
is  industrious  and  frugal. 

"*  Again  I  say,  come  and  see  for  yourself.  The  journey  to  New  York  is 
not  worth  a  consideration,  and  when  you  arrive  there  write  or  telegraph ; 
but  if  yoQ  come  on  to  us  without  doing  either,  you  will  find  us,  as  Western 
people  say,  with  *  Our  latch-string  on  the  outside  always.'  * " 

I  have  given  this  letter  in  full,  and  though  some  of  the  points  are,  to 
my  idea,  a  little  overdrawn,  there  is  yet  a  great  deal  of  truth  about  it. 
The  recTclesn  bravery  might  be  toned  down  to  a^rw  will;  and  the  thousand 
temptations  of  a  frontier  cattle-town  have  to  be  reduced  to  three,  the  most 
prominent  being  the  vilest  of  whiskey,  while  the  two  others,  gambling  and 
worse,  are  of  a  similarly  wretchedly  poor  description,  and  could  hardly 
be  called  temptations  for  the  cla«»  of  men  who  sre  likely  to  be  guided 
by  these  Notes. 


LIST  OP  SOME   AUTHORS   ON  THE  WEST 
CONSULTED  BY  THE  WRITER. 


AadaboD,  7  works. 

Bachmann,  3  works. 

Baird,  P.  S.,  7  work*. 

Barker,  Ch. 

Bartlett,  J.  B. 

Batty,  H. 

Beach,  W.  W, 

Beadle,  J. 

Berkeley,  Hon.  C.  O.  F. 

Black,  Capt 

Blackraore. 

Bonaparte,  Prince  CL  L» 

Bosgood. 

Brackenridg^ 

Bradley,  R.  T. 

Bradbnry. 

Brown,  Kobertb 

Campion,  J.  S. 

Cass. 

Catlin,  G.,  6  worki. 

Catou.  J.  D. 

Cox,  Ross. 

Custer,  G.  A. 

Do  Lafrenaya. 

D'Obignv. 

De  Vere  * 

Doane,  Lient. 

Duden,  G. 

Duuraven,  Earl  of. 

Elwyn. 

Fleming,  G. 

Fosset. 

Franklin,  S.  C. 

Fremont,  J.  C,  4  works 

GBrfielde. 

Gilmore,  P. 

Goodman. 

Haliburton,  T.  0. 

Hall,  W. 

Harlan. 


Hittel,  J.  8, 

Kenuey. 

King,  Clarence,  8  works. 

JamcH,  Ed. 

Jones,  W.  A. 

Long,  Major. 

McKenney. 

Mullery,  Garrick,  2  workib 

Maxey,  R.  2  works. 

Morgan,  L.  H. 

Morse,  Dr. 

Murray,  Hon.  C.  A* 

Newhouse,  J. 

Nicollet. 

Parker. 

Pickering, 

Poeppig. 

Powell,  J.  W.,  9  worki. 

Red  field,  H.  V. 

Richardson,  A.  D, 

Richardson,  H« 

Richardson,  J, 

Rowan,  J.  J» 

Eoss. 

Say. 

Schoolcraft,  H.  R.,  12  wocte 

Southesk,  Earl  ot 

Stnnsbury,  H, 

Strahom. 

Tanner,  S. 

Townsend,  J.  K. 

Up  de  Graff. 

Vere,  Dr.  M.  Scheie  Da 

Volney. 

Warden. 

Wheeler. 

Whetham,  Boddam. 

Whittaker,  F. 

Wied,  Prince  ci» 

Wilkes.  C.  J. 

Wyeth,  Capt 


INDEX 


Absevos  of  nobs  and  snobs,  SO. 

Advice  to  English  settlers,  322. 

Air  of  the  West — its  qualities,  8. 

Antelope,  tasteless  venison,  4. 

Appetite,  glorious,  61. 

Appetite,  sound,  47. 

Appetite,  veteran,  48. 

Application  of  the  Beaver's  hydro- 
statics, 240. 

Arrangement  in  strings,  367. 

Arrival  my,  at  Settlement,  376. 

Arrappahoes  the,  reported  on  the 
war-path,  272. 

Arrappahoe  the,  and  his  squaw, 
273. 

Audubon,  407. 

Authors  on  the  West,  432. 

Babt  the,   giving  me   an  impres- 

sion,  365. 
Bad -land— its  aspect,  166. 
Bad  Medicine  the,  42. 
Baking,  56. 
Baldfaced-Hattie,  99. 
Baldfaced-Hattie — how  she  was  rope 

broke,  99. 
Beans,  the  pot  of,  190t 
Beans  is  pison,  192. 
Bear  chase,  a,  184. 
Beardaw  Joe,  his  get-up,  18. 
Beauty  of  outline  in  antlers,  136. 
Beaver,  the,  233. 
Beaver  influence  of,  npon  landscape, 

259. 
Beaver  pelt,  prices  of,  252. 
Beaver  an  historical  animal,  425. 


Beaver  work,  242. 
Beaver  town,  my  night  at  a,  266b 
Beaver,  the  traits  of,  239. 
Beaver  medicine,  250. 
Beaver,  trapping  of,  250L 
Beaver  timber,  242. 
Beaver,  the  teeth  of,  241. 
Beaver,  the  instinct  of,  235. 
Beaver  dam  and  bank,  233. 
Beaver,  what  trees  are  gnawed  bvi 

247. 
Beaver,  the  castoreum  of,  424. 
Beds,  how  to  make  them,  408. 
Beds,  making  of,  63. 
Beds,  sharing,  64. 
Bedfellow  troubles,  64. 
Bedmaking  under  difficulties,  188. 
Bibleback,  90. 
Bighorn,  the,  160. 
Bighorn,  stalk  of  the  largest,  167. 
Bighorn,  my  largest  head,  167. 
Bighorn  fighting,  420. 
Bighorn,  its  coat,  166. 
Bighorn  hunting  in  Mexico,  421. 
Bighorn,  the  scab  of  the,  178. 
Bighorn  rutting,  164. 
Bighorn,  horns  of  the,  161. 
Big  Wind  River  Mountains,  123. 
Big  Wind  River,  50. 
Bite  of  the  skunk,  109,  110,  401 
Black  Coaly  272,  278. 
Blue-winged  teal,  80. 
Bone  carpenter,  Henry's  dream  o( 

47. 
Boreas  finds  a  camping  place^  53. 
Boreas's  character,  95. 
Ff 


434 


Index. 


Borea8''8  bump  of  locality,  96, 

Boreas,  trading  for  him,  89. 

Boreas's  dislike  of  grizzliea,  97. 

Borrow  to,  trouble,  187. 

Boss's  the,  thundering  jump,  107. 

Boy  stalker,  the,  139. 

Boy  sentry,  the,  377. 

Brands  of  cattle,  359. 

Bridge,  the  $700,  288. 

Br^'lat-Savarin's  story,  201. 

bucking,  100. 

Bucked  off,  petting,  100. 

Bags,  212,  214. 

Building  your  runche,  36L 

Burying  children,  41. 

Camp  bucket,  411. 

Camps,  different  sorts  of,  78. 

Camp  duties,  62. 

Camp,  naming  of,  69. 

Camp,  return  to,  173. 

Camp,  telescoping  of,  74. 

Canyons  of  the  Colorado  River,  297. 

Careless  shooting,  417. 

Cartridges,  410. 

Castoreum,  424. 

Cattle  brands,  359. 

Cattle  business,  origin  of,  324 

Cattle  business,  profits  of,  426. 

Cattle  business,  letter  on,  429. 

Cattle  business,  unreliable  accounts 

of,  428. 
Cattle,  choice  of,  346. 
Cattle,  cutting-out,  343. 
Cattle,  getting  your,  346. 
Cattle,  number  of,  in  the  U.S.,  321, 

325. 
Cattle  plague,  334. 
Cattle-raising,  profits  of,  329. 
Cattle-raising,  losses,  338. 
Cattle-raising  attracting  attention, 

348. 
Cattle-ranche,  the  first,  in  Colorado, 

353. 
Cattle,  stampeding  of,  358. 
Cellar  fort,  the,  378. 
Charm    of   trapper   travelling,   62, 

55. 
Choice  of  cattle,  346. 
Cities,  their  aspect,  5. 


Civilization,  my  return  to,  289,  290i 
Cleanliness  of  Western  men,  381. 
Climbing  order,  light,  113. 
Climate  of  Wyoming,  409. 
Climate  of  the  uplands,  198* 
Cliff  swallow,  the,  312. 
Clothing,  411. 
Cold  mutton  comfort,  27. 
Cold  ,uap,  131. 
Cold  in  1880,  34. 
Colorado  River,  the,  296. 
Colorado,  rapid  growth  of,  364. 
Connexion  of  Nature's  works,  134, 
Cooking,  56,  60. 
Coroner's,  the,  good  story^  370. 
Coureurs  de  bois,  names  given  by,  72 
Cowboys  at  work,  341. 
Cowboys,  independence  of,  363. 
Cowboys,  two  classes  of,  344 
Crossing  rivers,  42,  44. 
Crossing  the  Wind  River  (Indians), 
273. 

Danobbs  threatening  cattle>raifing, 

334. 
Dawn  in  the  West,  131. 
Deadly  instruments,  three,  216. 
Dead  man's  boots,  playing  for,  388. 
Dendman's  Claim,  21, 
Death  ot  the  trapper,  15. 
Debut,  my,  147. 
Desperado,  29. 
Destruction  of  game,  416. 
Diphtheria,  41. 

Discovery  of  Sheepeaters,  177. 
Disvobulations,  75. 
Doctrines  of  Western  morality,  29. 
Dressing-room,   sitting    down    the 

187. 
Dressing,  story  of,  47. 
Drop,  getting  the,  27. 
Dry  Camps,  38. 
Dry  stores,  54. 
Dug-out,  lite  in  a,  261. 
Dunraven's,  Lord,  white  collar  oiTili* 

zation,  295. 
Dunraven,    Lord,    opinion    ok   tbi 

Wind  River  Country,  400. 
Dust,  bones,  and  flesh,  293. 
Dutch  Cent,  386. 


Index, 


435 


EioiE  of  Lewis  and  Clarke,  78. 
Eaten  too  much  dinner,  88. 
Edd,  18. 

English  faces,  seeinjs^  again,  291. 
English  settlers,  difficulties  of,  363. 
Ethics  of  the  West,  20. 
Evenings  in  trapper  camps,  62. 
Experimentalizing  of  the  Western 

man,  22. 
Expedition  over  to  the  Colorado, 

302. 
Exploration,  previous,  51,  396. 
Express  bullets,  411. 

Favofeitb  playground,  my,  164. 

Fill  your  boots,  195. 

Finding  of  water,  36. 

Fires  on  the  Plains,  36. 

Fire  driving  us  out,  223. 

First  dinner,  50. 

First  impressions,  365. 

Fish,  how  to  carry  them,  218. 

Fish,  where  I  saw  most,  220. 

Fish-in-Bed  Camp,  71. 

Fishing,  my,  215. 

Fishing  in  the  Rockies,  211,  214. 

Flaming  Gorge,  304. 

Forests,  in  dense,  201. 

Forked  lightning,  untangling,  125. 

Fort  Washakie,  49,  276,  286. 

Founding  a  home,  394. 

Four-buU-Camp  hunger,  121. 

Four  bulls,  the,  115. 

Four  Wapiti,  the,  115. 

Fremont's  Peak,  196. 

French  Louy's  skunk,  110. 

Frontier  settlements,  origin  of,  374. 

Fur  Company  voyageurs,  16. 

Game,  preservation  of,  415. 
Game  country,  wonderful,  149. 
Game,  unsophisticated,  151. 
Gang  of  moving  Wapiti,  139, 141, 

145. 
Getting  up  names,  13. 
Getting  your  cattle,  346. 
Geikie,  Professor,  417. 
Oeikie,    Professor,    description     of 

bad-lands,  157. 
Gteneral  Sheridan,  31. 


V   f 


Geological  speculations,  318. 

Glorious  appetite,  61. 

Go  !    And  I  went,  280. 

Going  to  bed,  63. 

Going  straight  on  Meat,  20. 

Gold,  walking  on,  197. 

Gold  pan,  the,  197. 

Qood  stories,  life  of,  369. 

Good  stories,  where  one  hears  them, 

369. 
Government  exploration  party,  209, 
Grace,  a  strange,  385. 
Grand  Canyon,  315. 
Grazing  land,  336. 
Great  gun,  the,  and  small  boy,  141, 

377. 
Grizzly,  close  encounter  with  a,  220. 

Habitations  in  the  Lower  Can- 
yons, 317. 

Half-breed  trappers,  257. 

Headwaters  of  three  great  streams, 
196. 

Head  of  the  great  stag,  122. 

Heap,  heap,  268. 

Henry's  humour,  47,  59. 

Henry,  18. 

Henry,  unadmiring,  211. 

History  of  the  Colorado  explora- 
tions, 297. 

Hold-all,  the,  65. 

Home,  393. 

Hoosier,  poisoning,  60. 

Horsebreaking,  profession  of,  100. 

Horseshoe  CaJiyon,  308. 

Horns  of  the  Bighorn,  161. 

Hovey,  Rev.  H.,  404. 

Humour  of  Henry,  19. 

Humour  of  the  West,  368. 

Hydrographical  point  of  interesti 
196. 

Ilipp,  Mr.,  849. 
Indians  and  beaver,  253,  256. 
'Indians,  curiosity  of,  270. 
Indian  languages,  282. 
Indian  love  of  the  beaver,  237. 
Indian  no  lost,  Indian   here,  wig* 

wam  lost,  203. 
Indian  panic,  an,  877. 

2 


436 


Index. 


Tndian  philosophy,  271. 
Indian  reservations,  276. 
Indians,  the  Sliet'peater,  176. 
Indians,  stoical,  270. 
Indian,  the  Soshone,  266. 
Indian  trails,  183. 
Indians  trying  my  Express,  270. 
Indians  and  travellers,  400. 
I  nspiriug  sight  of  big  stag,  12L 
Interview,  a  ludicrous,  19. 
Iron  store,  131. 
It  will  keep,  367. 

Jackson's  Hole,  romance  of,  205. 
Jnckson's  Hole,  wintering  in,  222. 
Juneway,  Dr.,  on  the  skunk,  404. 
Tennie's  Lake,  217. 
Jeri'salem  OvertHker.  the,  382. 
Jones,  Capt.,  the  explorer,  399. 

Katb,  108. 

Kitchen  pony,  the,  202. 

Lady  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  867. 
Lakes  on  the  Wind  River  Chain,  77. 
Lake  scenery,  79. 
Languages  of  the  North  American 

Indians,  282. 
Landseer's  sketches,  136. 
Land  tenure  and  laws  in  the  United 

States,  331. 
Laramie  Peak  country,  148. 
Lawn  tennis  shoes,  412. 
Loading  subject,  a,  385. 
Le  Mars  Colony,  the.  321. 
Life  in  a  dug-out,  261. 
Light-pack  camps,  73. 
Lightness  of  the  air,  114. 
Loafer  Dick's  death,  391 
Losing  oneself  in  forests,  208. 
Losses  in  cattle«rai8ing,  338. 

Making  bed,  63. 
Market  hunters'  home,  143. 
Market  hunters,  a  family  of,  141. 
Main  Divide  snowstorm,  183. 
Mauvaises  terres,  42,  50^  155,  175, 

194,  417. 
Mavrick,  360. 
Measuring  horns,  174. 


Meat,  gf^ing  straight  on,  20. 

Mishaps  to  the  hold-all,  68. 

Misunderstanding,  my,  with  Blaoi 
Coal,  279. 

Idisinterpretation  of  good  inten- 
tions, 281. 

Monarch  of  the  Divide,  death  of, 
132. 

Moonlight  ramble,  a,  225. 

Moonlight  stalking,  157. 

Mosquitoes,  48. 

Mountain  lion,  wail  of,  SSw 

My  first  stalk,  150. 

Naii Ks,  corruption  of,  72. 

Names,  getting  up  of,  18, 

Naming  camp,  69. 

Newberry,  Prof.,  318. 

New  land,  144. 

Newness  of  the  West,  155. 

Night-camping,  131. 

Night-scene,    a,    in    the    Colorado 

canyons,  312. 
Nobs  and  snobs,  their  absence,  30. 
Notabilia  venatoris,  135. 
November,  1880,  great  cold  in,  273. 

Old  Christmas,  19. 
Old  John,  104. 

Origin  of  the  cattle  business,  324. 
Outfit  for  sportsmen,  410. 
"Outfit,"  the  Western  use  of  that 
word,  1. 

Packikq  horses,  45. 

Pelt  prices,  influence  of,  416, 

Pet  skunk,  110. 

Pioneer  settlements,  origin  of,  874 

Pitcairn  Islanders,  291. 

Plains  fires,  36. 

Plains,  the,  as  grazing  land,  836. 

Plains  waggon,  39. 

Poker,  game  of,  388. 

Poisoning  wolves,  268, 

Poisoning  hoosier,  60. 

Port,  his  youth,  16. 

Port,  his  humour,  18. 

Post-office  regulations,  289. 

Pot,  the,  of  beans,  IbO. 

Potamology,  peculiarities  of,  19& 


Index. 


437 


PowelPs  Major,  Exploration  of  the 

Colorado,  297,  306. 
Preservation  of  game,  415. 
Preparing  heads,  422. 
Pre-empting  land,  332. 
Profits  of  cattle  business,  329. 
Putting  out  fires  by  counterburn- 

ing,  37. 
Purgatorial  wavework,  194. 

Rabies  mephitica,  402. 
Raising  cattle  on  free  land,  327. 
Ramble,  a,  on  the  Divide,  76. 
Rattlesnake  Hills,  104. 
Rattlesnakes,  their  rattle,  105. 
Reback-action  of  water,  58. 
Reservations  of  Indians,  276. 
Retrospective  glances,  ?93. 
Return  to  civilization,  289,  290. 
Return  to  camp,  84. 
Revolver,  411. 
Reynold  Capt.,  399. 
Ridgepole  of  North  America,  182. 
Riding  over  to  the  dead  stag,  133. 
Riding  on  trail,  355. 
Rifles,  410. 

Bifle  the,  always  with  yon,  226. 
Rifle,  anxiety  for  the,  106. 
Rifles,  different  names  of,  144. 
Rocky  Mountain  lady,  61. 
Ropebreaking  of  a  horse,  99. 
Round-up,  the,  339. 
Riicksack,  411. 
Ruskin  of  the  chase,  134. 

Salebattts,  56. 

Saratoga,  the,  66. 

Scab  on  bighorn,  178. 

Scarcity  of  game,  45. 

Scenery  in  daylight,  228. 

Schloss  in  Tyrol,  122. 

Secrets  of  beaver  medicine,  251. 

Secundum,  267. 

Sharing  beds,  64. 

Sheepeater  Indians,  176. 

Shipping  beeves,  343. 

Shooting  of  my  first  wapiti,  137. 

Shot  at  the  big  stag,  129. 

Sierra  Soshone,  50. 


Silence   In    the    canyons    of     tht 

Colorado,  310. 
Skunk,  401. 
Skunks,  their  peculiarities,  108, 109 

110. 
Snowstorms  on  the  Plains,  337. 
Snowstorm,  a,  is  upon  us,  185. 
Soap,  how  not  to  make,  199. 
Speaking  wapiti,  a,  138. 
Sportsmen,  outfit  for,  4101, 
Squatter's,  the  right,  332. 
Shirley  Basin,  41. 
Shooting  stories,  25,  28. 
Sierra  Soshone,  123. 
Sleigh  ride,  a  cold,  286, 
Snowstorm,  early,  119. 
Soshon6  Mountains,  397. 
Soshong  Indians,  266. 
Soshond  reservation,  the,  277. 
Stag,  the  great,  123. 
Staglore,  134. 

Stalking  at  moonlight,  151. 
Stalker's  bag,  411. 
Stalking  of  four  wapiti,  116. 
Stampeding  of  cattle,  358. 
Stare,  an  uncomforiable,  169. 
Start,  a  bad,  7. 

Starting  for  wapiti  hunt,  112, 114. 
Stock-raising  business,  the,  820. 
Strange  old  customs,  135. 
Streams,  running  dry,  35. 
Strychnine,  use  of,  268. 
Sunset,  80. 

Taking  root,  200. 

Telescoping  camp,  74. 

Tenderfoot,  his  difficulties,  18. 

Teton,  the  gi-eat,  210. 

Teton,  the  ascent  of,  423. 

Teton,  the  partial  ascent  of,  223, 424 

Teton  basin,  205,  423. 

Teton  basin,  locality  of,  207. 

Teton  basin,  romance  of,  205. 

Texan  and  Torkshireman,  392. 

Thanksgiving-day  dinner,  379. 

Thunderstorm,  257. 

Time,  lost  reckoning  of,  898. 

Togwotee  pass,  398. 

Tool-box,  411. 

Topshelter's  outfit,  1,  9. 


438 


Index. 


Tonristj  not  to  carry  revolvers,  26. 
Tracking  the  great  stag,  126. 
Trading,  91. 
Trading  for  Boreas,  89. 
Trading  Jack's  death,  884. 
Trading  Jack's  grace,  385. 
Trapper  travelling,  charm  of,  53, 55. 
Trapper,  death  of  the,  15. 
Trapper,  the  old,  gone  up,  16. 
Trappers,  engaging  them,  11, 
Traveller's  questions,  25. 
Tricks  of  wolf  poisoners,  269. 
Tricks  of  far  hunters,  252. 

Unsfevetud  land,  330. 
Untangling  forked  lightning,  125. 
Upper  Shirley  basin,  71. 
U.  P.  train,  293. 

Usefulness  of    man  relapsing  into 
semi-savagery,  293. 

Valet,  no  man  is  a  hero  to  his,  294. 
Vicio\M  horses,  45. 
Viev^  from  peak  on  the  Divide,  194. 
View  of  the  Teton  basin,  208. 
Visit  my,  to  Black  Coal,  279. 
Voyageurs  Fur  Company,  15. 

Wads,  410. 

Waggon-sheet,  408. 

Walton's  art  in  the  Rockies,  211, 

214. 
Wanton  waste,  150. 
Wapiti,  a  big  band,  127. 
Wapiti  antlers,  size  of,  150. 
Wapiti  breaking  cover,  129. 
Wapiti,  cleaning-time  of  horns,  412. 
Wapiti,  fighting,  127. 
Wapiti,  good  climbers,  413. 
Wapiti,  moving  bands  of,  139,  141, 

145. 
Wapiti,  poorness  of  skins,  415. 
Wapiti,  shedding  time,  412. 
Wapiti,  stalking  of  four  bulls,  115. 
Wapiti,  throwing  horn,  231. 
Wapiti,  whistling,  82, 123. 


Watching  beaver  at  work,  243,  244 

Water-finding,  36. 

Watson,  Sir  T.,  401. 

Washakie  reservation,  277. 

Weather  fine,  198. 

Weight  of  the  bighorn,  162. 

Wengeren  Alp  in  the  Rockies,  77. 

West,  authors  on,  432. 

West,  turning  it  into  a  cattle-yard, 

232. 
Western  humour  and  lingo,  368. 
Western  hunter's  idea  about  game, 

151. 
Western  judge,  story  of,  65. 
Western  man,  20,  21,  23. 
Western  man  acts  as  his  own  execa* 

tiouer,  28. 
Western  man  starting  into  crime,  29. 
Western  man's  love  of  trading,  91. 
Western  man's  achievements,  31. 
West,  newness  of  the,  155. 
Western  repartee,  19. 
Western  waggons,  39. 
Western  woman,  a,  coup,  883. 
Western  woman's  the,  savoirfairct 

382. 
Whistle  of  the  Wapiti,  82. 
Whistling  of  the  Wapiti,  82,  123. 
Whiskey  tales,  6. 
Windfall,  corralled  in  a,  201. 
Wind  River  Mountains,  50,  397. 
Wind  River  Mountains  scenery,  194, 
Wind  River,  Indians  crossing  the^ 

273. 
Wintering  in  Teton  Basin,  222. 
Winter  of  1880,  34. 
Wolves,  poisoning  of,  268. 
Woman,  respect  shown  to,  28. 
Work  of  the  evening,  62. 
Wyoming,  climate  of,  409. 
Wyoming,  size  of,  397. 

Yellowstonb,  the,  195. 

Zoological  collections  in  England, 
422. 


r 


YB  20387 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CAIvlFORNIA  IvIBRARY 


